The Hunted
by Shockwave's-Apprentice
Summary: humans, five major races, follows annoying 18 year old hybrid from the same race as Soundwave. capable of hacking nervous systems and computers. talking animals instead of cassette mechs. Allied with Barricade and yeah sorry it's an old story I have no motivation to explain. No romance, just character studies and emo moments yeah lots of those. long so if you got a few hours.
1. Intro

pffft INCOMING

YO i will probs yell at you don't take it personally i just know there are perverts all over this site and also twelve year olds who know nothing

okay before you read this realize the following-

-THIS SHIT IS OLD. OLD OLD OLD I started it years ago so the writing will go from so-so to actually pretty okay in the later chapters. Characters will probably change too just because I want them to seem more real and because they're in a different situation. this thing is totally made up for my own enjoyment so yeah.

despite having a complete story under my belt this thing is my longest work at 96 pages single-spaced. please enjoy.

Other things:

-this is an emotionally mature story meaning that there is deep stuff if you're like twelve (i don't know what you're doing here because this is more of a pairing site than anything else) you might not be able to handle it okay and you probs wont be able to understand the characters very well because they're too evolved; it's why kids find adult books boring and confusing. i could be wrong there are some really smart tweens out there but just a warning you probably won't get it.

-no robots only humans

-set post-wwIII

-i DON'T DO romance or errotic shit so you're safe there if you don't like that and too bad for you if you do, there's plenty of it floating around on this site for you have some of that i certainly don't want it

-no shipping of my chars

-seriously no shipping

-there will be blood

-there will be tears

-there will be drunk people

-there will be murder

-there will be talking animals.

-there will be fucking swearing

This is incomplete peeps so sorry

I don't think I'll be able to finish it again sorry but not really because ehhhhh

I will someday post an outline for the rest of the story as 'ch 7' so sit tight.


	2. Chapter 1

Bro Please I started this like at least two years ago this is so old. The good writing starts in Ch. 6 but this is tolerable and you need the background info so don't skip anything.

-Please note that this story is very loosely inspired by serpentnine's fan fiction _Sound and Fury_. I do not take credit for anything they made up. Transformers belongs to Hasbro, but Sandstriker, Writhe, Alabaster, Mirr, Gabe, Emerelda, Kiya, Maximum, Whiteback and any other original ideas and characters belong to me. Also, any human designs and/or modifications from Cybertronian abilities to organic traits are my ideas.-

The Hunted

Chapter 1

_As he came to, the man heard some scattered voices. When he tried to lift his head, he felt a pressure behind his ear. A sharp shock of pain lanced through him when he tried to thrash free. Everything hurt. It overwhelmed his senses and he passed out again. _

"Damn it," I muttered. "If he'd stop tossing and turning then maybe I could help him."

"Better work fast," a low, smooth voice advised, "we're losing him." I replaced my fingers on the pressure point behind the man's left ear and above the jaw. By utilizing a pressure point as means of entry, I could take control of a person's nervous system. It was one of the perks of being a carrier; or part carrier at least. I could, if I better mastered my skills, hack technology, memories and other psychological aspects, as well as body systems with a mere touch to a major pressure point or computer. Currently, I was forcing the man's immune system to combat a highly deadly neurotoxin (which, unless in massive doses, carriers can become immune to; regular people… not so much) while my symbiont companions regulated his less voluntary actions: breathing, heartbeats, etc., things that I, though capable of controlling them, could never successfully operate. Only a symbiont, a creature so in tune to its carrier's various bodily functions, could understand how such a vital peace of a puzzle as fragile as the human body worked and mimic it correctly. It was my job, however, to lead the offensive against the poison. We had been fighting this particular person's battle for a day and a half now. It had taken me about two-and-a-half hours to recover from the same neurotoxin. But I had prior experience with neurotoxins; when I had first met Writhe, a semi-marine symbiont, he had given me a hefty dose of venom. Writhe was a banded sea krait, a small black-and-white ringed snake with venom potent enough to rival that of a cobra. Not all animals were symbionts, only one every so often, just like not all humans were carriers. I didn't even know I was a carrier until I had seen the boys messing with a half-dead fruit bat and decided on impulse to intervene. Ratbat, the symbiont in question, was currently keeping the poison victim's heart beating. Shrunk down to barely a few inches long inside a protective shell all carriers brought with them in my inside pocket, I could sense him mentally nudging me out of my daydream. It had been a wonder I could have helped him at all, going from being a random girl on the streets to a carrier in mere seconds. Plus, I had a feeling my pedigree didn't just include carriers. The standard carrier body type was tall, slender and bony. I, though quite bony, lacked the long, lean physique of a carrier. I was a pitiful five foot two inches (at age 18) and had a wide collarbone, giving me a more broad-shouldered appearance. I had decided that I was a crazy combination of a war-type and a carrier-type. Though I looked a bit more thickly built, I was virtually incapable of any sort of heavy lifting. I couldn't punch. I was very stiff and possessed none of the flexibility carriers typically put to use. I was too big to fit into tight places and was claustrophobic, but was too small to do any real damage. A person would look between a carrier and a soldier and expect any sort of cross between the two to be a tall, bulky person, acrobatic, muscular and quick witted. Save for the last, I was none of those. My brain was the only part of me that lived up to my standards. In my opinion, it was the only beneficial organ in my entire body. Ratbat had been surprised by it the first time we spoke telepathically; that had been his first clue that I wasn't all carrier. Though sharp and calculating, my brain was a set of fireworks; impulsive, contradictory and highly unpredictable. Carriers were normally patient and lax-natured. I was easily provoked and obsessive. But I was the best Ratbat had for now. He'd been astonished when I'd offered to help him, especially now; carriers were currently being hunted by an unknown organization. Ratbat had gone out to observe, then come home to find his companions' tiny apartment in ruin, and his fellow symbionts and carrier gone. The organization had been taking carriers off the streets for a while now, and, as carriers were usually lower class, there were a lot that had gone missing. I had avoided detection simply because of the fact that I had had no idea what I was and hadn't had any symbionts until recently. My unusual body type helped. Now I worked with three symbionts. The last one was scouting, looking for a way out of the cell that confined us. The black bruises on my arms and stomach were signs that I had been brought here against my will. This building had once been a stockade, but it was worn and only a few cells were tenant-worthy; which was why the lucky neurotoxin victim was sharing my cell. I had been playing dead for some time now, shutting down all my unnecessary functions via hacks to my own body system and hibernating. Our captors poisoned all of us and waited for us to die. They didn't bother removing the bodies. As far as I knew, I had only survived because of my natural carrier's resistance to neurotoxins. This particular victim had been unbelievably fortunate. He had not only ended up in a cell with an occupant that possessed the ability to cure him, but this occupant was also sympathetic. A quick nudge to my consciousness alerted me to Whiteback, my third symbiont. He had provided me with some valuable information, but unlike pure carriers, I wasn't (or at least not yet) good at multitasking. I mentally thanked him, and informed him I would look over his data later because I was keeping the man alive right now. Whiteback had been the most accepting of my quirks, mainly because he himself possessed quite a few. He sent me a signal of understanding. All the symbionts I worked with had had other carriers in the past. Writhe had been surprised by my talents for such a youngster, but criticized without any sort of filter. He was a versatile symbiont, able to move through water and across land. He could explore, fight and hack—whether it was computers or organisms. Ratbat had been a quiet and supportive coach, giving me a gentle shove when I needed it and assisting me with neuropsychipotesism (the ability to hack a nervous system). Whiteback was less involved in that field; he could handle computers, but not so much bodies. He was my scout, climbing around and moving swiftly and quietly just about anywhere. For a Virginia (or what used to be Virginia; the continents have moved) Opossum, he was fast and agile. This came from being a symbiont, I reasoned. Oh yes, and all symbionts (but not regular animals, obviously; symbionts often found ordinary animals dumb and boring) could speak. Ratbat was fluent in several languages but had never specified which, Writhe knew Filipino, English and some scattered bits of Spanish, and Whiteback spoke fluent German and English and understood Italian and Greek. I didn't ask how or where they'd learned their other languages; that wasn't my business. The man stirred again. I was careful to keep my fingers on his neck this time. He reached for the side of his head, presumably to figure out what was there, but winced and let his arm drop to the ground. Writhe had triggered a pain response to stop the man from removing my hand and disconnecting the neuropsychic link that was keeping him alive. I sensed Ratbat's disapproval.

"Writhe, that wasn't necessary," I murmured. The snake around my neck tensed.

"Don't want him to break the connection again." Writhe had a smooth voice that reminded me of his physique. Ratbat's voice was small and timid, and Whiteback had a calm but assertive tone. Speaking of, a light gray blob dropped out of the rafters and landed on the man's chest. The man startled, but a sharp "don't move" stopped him from squirming. I caught another tendril of Ratbat's annoyance.

_Be gentle you two! He's badly wounded and ill!_ the other symbiont thought to them. His companions both stiffened. I understood why. No-one had ever been gentle with them; they'd had rough lives. Ratbat had had an exceptional carrier. He was one of the lucky symbionts. Writhe and Whiteback were still somewhat unclear on the exact definition of gentle. I sensed the tension drifting between all of us. I broke the silence.

"What were you doing?" It took the man a second before he realized I was addressing him. He mumbled something like 'errwha…?' and I sighed mentally. "What were you doing when they caught you?" He let his head loll to the side, forcing me to move my hand in order to keep the connection alive. I had destroyed most of the toxins, but he was still relying on Ratbat and Writhe to breathe and keep his heart beating. The last would be the hardest function to return to his control, because it was involuntary. It was designed that way on purpose. You can't just die on a whim. He said something else, but didn't move his jaw and slurred the words, so I had no idea what it was. "Pardon?"

"Wire you doingthat?" My right eye narrowed like it normally did when I was confused. Whiteback was the first to figure it out.

"He wants to know why you've got your fingers on his head." I mentally shared a feeling of gratefulness with the opossum and his ears rose slightly in a silent sort of pride.

"My hand is there to keep you alive." Though the man's were only slightly open, I could see the suspicion in them. "My friends and I are… uh… keeping tabs… on your heart and lung functions." I caught a mental snort of sarcasm from Whiteback. The man's eyes widened slightly in realization.

"C…carrier…" he mumbled. I nodded slowly, careful of Writhe's coils. The man rolled onto his side, groaning quietly, and tried to drag himself away, the usual reaction when confronted by someone who can kill you with little more than a thought and a touch in the right place. I knew Writhe would try to immobilize him with pain, so I blocked that particular nerve message. But there were some things I couldn't stop him doing. The man froze for a minute, then cringed, gaping slightly and made a slight meeping sound. Writhe had stopped his lungs. Ratbat's outrage burned in my head, but did not need to feel it; I was angry enough as it was.

"Writhe! Stop that this instant!" The man curled up in a vain attempt to breathe. I sensed the snake's defiance from my mental link with him. "Writhe, _now_!" Reluctantly, he withdrew. Ratbat was seething. I willed him to calm down and focus. I would deal with the snake.

_Why did you do that?!_ I growled mentally.

_He would have cut off the link-_

_So you stopped him from breathing. That's essentially the same thing!_

_I… I have different techniques than you're used to…_

_Clearly. No more of this. There are other ways to get him to do what we want._

The snake sulked. I returned my attention to the victim. He was staring at the wall, fearful yet somehow seeming to accept that he was going to die here. He had a soldier's mind, I realized.

"Tell us your name." Writhe mentally told me he could just pick it out of the man's memories. I informed him that that would not be necessary. The man had the same idea.

"…don't just… force me… tell you…?" He wheezed. I shook my head.

"What's the point when you can just tell me yourself? Or would you prefer if I went through your memories?" He made a noise so slight I wouldn't have noticed it if I wasn't touching his jaw.

"…I.D. card… Left pocket…" Whiteback retrieved it. I stiffened. He was an Officer. Most people in most places love Officers. They occupy a role almost identical to police. But for the lower class in the slummy cities Officers are bad news for anyone and everyone they meet. They confiscate alcohol, drugs and even food for their own personal habits or needs. And they get away with it. Case in point they were another gang; except they got paid to be one. I had personally had a lot of trouble with them; the only way I'd evaded them was through my cunning and street smarts. Now with this one here in front of me, _dependent_ on me… it was a strange feeling. The man relaxed a bit and I realized that because he was incapable of controlling his own breathing, he couldn't sigh, so this was his attempted equivalent. He had sort of 'wilted,' in a way. "…bad…?" I realized he was referring to my prior experiences with Officers. I did not answer. He let his head rest on the ground again. I sensed he'd probably go back to sleep. I was right.

By the time Officer Barricade came to again, I was trying not to fall asleep myself. No rest in nearly three days was brutal. He seemed more conscious of his environment now, and began peppering me with questions. Where are we, who are you, how long have I been here, how long have you been here, do we get meals, is there a way out… It didn't take long for me to get tired of it. Whiteback was sleeping and I envied him greatly.

"Look, I'll tell you what I know after I've gotten some rest. I'm giving you back control of your lungs." He stared at me. "I can't sleep as long as I have to function as a living USB cable between you and my symbionts. We're still controlling you heart rate though, so you're not quite free. This'll hurt. A lot." I nudged Writhe mentally and he severed his ties with Barricade's nervous system. The Officer cringed and drew his knees to his chest. "You'll probably have to force yourself to breathe until you get used to it." He coughed violently a few times.

"Awlright…" Coughed again.

A few hours later, Ratbat deemed Barricade's toxin levels satisfactory and returned control of the Officer's heart. I had a feeling Barricade would have thrown up had he eaten anything in the past three days. But he hadn't, so he just bent over on his hands and knees and gasped like a fish. With Whiteback in my lap, I retreated to a corner and passed out.

I awoke to the opossum poking my face.

"Mirr! Mirr wake up!" I shook myself, willing my brain to awaken.

"What, what?" I grumbled. How much sleep had I gotten?

"Someone's coming." I sighed and crawled over to my chosen corner where I had supposedly 'died.' I sensed the Officer looking at me. I pointed over to the right wall.

"Go lie over there and be absolutely still, okay? Decide on a position, and that's how you look every time they come by, okay?" He nodded, then arranged himself in a fairly convincing dead person pose. I curled up and slowly began shutting off my non-essential functions. The last thing I did was place Whiteback, who had morphed into his micro-mode, into the protective casing lining my inside pocket. Then I linked into his nervous system functions and placed my remaining body systems in a sort of torpor. Everything went dark.

The first thing I realized was that I was breathing normally. Then I felt my ears twitch and my whiskers vibrate. No, not mine, Whiteback's. I was merely a visitor in his consciousness. I heard a few people growling to each other and the sickening sound of something dragging along the ground. I hoped my host would have the sense not to inhale too deeply. Another door screeched open and a thumping noise signaled the body falling into the cell. Somewhere far to the right, a heavy door swung open. The soft chink of body armor and steel-soled boots echoed against the walls. A gruff, angry voice snarled in the direction of the others.

"When are you two going to clean this place? It's gotten bad enough already and now you throw another one in here? If we have an inspection, it simply _cannot_ look—or smell—like this! Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, we'll remove the dead by noon tomorrow. They'll go straight into the Burner."

"Good! And you'd better not slack off!"

"Yes sir!" The heavy boots retreated and there was silence for about five minutes. "We need to start with the oldest. They smell the worst."

"Yeah, okay. Let's get the gear." I waited until the footsteps retreated and the door slammed shut, then returned to my consciousness. I heard Barricade whisper, 'so where does that leave us,' and I shuddered. Where _did_ that leave us? Whiteback still hadn't found an effective escape route yet. We had few options. I sat up and released all three of my symbionts.

"Okay you guys. This is a drastic situation. You will _not_ return to this cell, we will meet up elsewhere, but we don't leave without everybody, got that?" They nodded. "Good. Go look for a way out. If you find anything, just shoot me a datalink, okay?"

"We get it," chirped Ratbat nervously. Whiteback was nodding and Writhe had sent me feelings of confirmation.

"All right then, go ahead. If you guys get out, try to get the others and I can formulate a plan at that point. Good luck." I figured I must be the only carrier to say 'good luck' to my charges, especially seeing as currently my life was more threatened than theirs. Ratbat climbed between the bars and fluttered away into the darkness, Writhe slid through a crack in the wall and Whiteback crawled through his usual means of exit: the small hole at the top of the cell. I felt Barricade's eyes on me.

"What do we do?" There was a note of seriousness in his voice. He knew the answer, but he had to hear me say it to accept it.

"We wait and hope with all we've got that they find something." The Officer was quiet for a moment, then nodded, seemingly more to himself than to me.

A half-an-hour later left me hanging upside-down from a few pipes in the boiler room. Barricade didn't seem to have a problem with the plan. I had thought he'd had a soldier's mind and I was more correct than I knew; he'd been a member of a sort of special operations team in the military before he became an Officer. He was used to this kind of thing. Ratbat clung to my shoulder, and the rest of his cohort were nervously hiding in my pocket, hoping I didn't fall some seventy feet or so to my death and take them with me. The plan had started like this: Writhe and Whiteback had managed to hack the security program and unlock the doors while Ratbat had brought us a key ring, which I now had clenched firmly between my teeth as I spidered my way across the ceiling. I willed Ratbat to go check on the catwalk to make sure it was still empty. It was. The guard who usually occupied it was probably helping his companions clean the prison block. I shuddered involuntarily. Barricade reached the platform first; he was quite a bit more experienced then I, and stronger too. I reached out and fastened my grip around the edge, but as I moved, my feet slipped and my hand came away from the metal. I screwed my eyes shut, waiting for the terrifying rush of gravity… and felt a grip like a vice close around my wrist. Barricade hauled me onto the catwalk.

"We even now?" he growled. I nodded in response.

"…Thanks." I shivered. Ratbat nudged my chin in an attempt to comfort me. I stroked his head. The symbiont chirred softly in contentment.

"Where to?" asked Barricade. I searched through the mental images of maps the symbionts had provided me with. All symbionts had memories like computers; they rarely forgot and could be searched with 'keywords' or triggers.

"That way." I pointed to a small metal door built into the wall. "Through that room, and we're out on the side on the building and then the roof." I looked down. "I should warn you though…"

"What?"

"That's the catwalk above the incinerator." Barricade gave me a grim look.

"We do what we have to." I nodded, and we made our way over to the tiny hatch in the wall. I braced myself. Barricade reached out and took the handle. The piece of metal squeaked away from the wall and with it came a rush of hot acrid air and the smell of burning flesh; a barbeque from hell. I snatched Ratbat off my shoulder and stuffed him into my jacket pocket.

"Stay there," I murmured to all the symbionts. I felt their acknowledgement. Then I crawled through the door.

We had to walk on the narrow piece of grating because it was too hot for our hands. Both of us were lucky enough to have halfway decent shoes. Balancing above the reddish gold flames was terrifying and spirit crushing. I tried not to look down. At one point, I felt my head swim and I swayed a little, but then suddenly there was Barricade's hand on my shoulder. I almost turned to look at him until I heard his voice in my ear over the roar of the flames.

"Keep walking, keep walking, we're fine, we're fine." The symbionts' encouragement echoed through my head. _Almost there! Almost there! Almost free; we're almost free!_ Only after I'd thrown the outside hatch open and climbed up onto the roof did I allow myself to think about where I was. Barricade kicked the hatch shut again, then climbed up next to me. He was trying to look straight-faced, but I could see the tension in his every facial muscle. "Well… never done anything quite like that before," he said, somewhat withdrawn. I shivered. The weather was damp, but not quite drizzling. One of my least favorite weather patterns: cold and sticky. Ratbat poked his head over the edge of my jacket collar. I could feel his elated thoughts. _Fresh air!_ I rubbed his ear and he cocked his head contentedly. I felt numb all over.

"We're not out of this mess yet," I said finally. "We have to get away from here without them seeing us." Barricade looked around, searching for a ladder or some other means off the roof. _Ratbat, how are you with cold?_ The little symbiont clambered onto my shoulder.

_I can handle it,_ he thought bravely. I smiled weakly at his will to please.

_Please be careful. If you get hypothermia, it won't help anyone. If you feel chilled, just come back to my jacket._ He nudged me.

_You sound like my other carrier. I miss him a lot._

_There's no shame in that. Don't worry Ratbat. We'll find him. I promise._ Ratbat launched himself into the air and began searching for a way off the roof. As my only winged symbiont, we owed him a lot. I didn't know what we'd do once he'd gone. But I reminded myself that his own carrier and cohort were probably missing him too. And that was more important than what I would do without him.

_My paws are freezing off,_ grumbled Whiteback. Ratbat was resting in my pocket again. I was sensing his recovery was nearly complete. I was switching between symbionts to prevent any of them getting too cold. Writhe was out of the equation for two reasons: for one thing we were on a slippery roof, and he had no limbs for traction, and second he was cold-blooded and needed to stay warm. Before his shift had ended, Ratbat had found a ladder, so Barricade, Whiteback and I were making our way over to it. Easier said than done. The roof was wet and therefore very slippery and on a slant in some places. I was just grateful that it wasn't metal. That would've been impossible. Finally, we made it to the ladder. I made the mistake of looking over the edge. Whoops.

"Ooooh that's a loooong way down…" I groaned as Whiteback peered over as well.

"Hell—that's a drop for the record books right there," he commented. I was just glad that the ladder seemed to be in relatively good condition. I slowly and carefully turned around and put my feet on the second or third rung. I fitted my right leg over one rung then my ankle under the next one, locking my foot in place. Then I let go of the roof and transferred my grip to the ladder. It was slippery too. Joy.

It took us what seemed like forever to get to the bottom of the ladder. But that was on another roof and required a second descent that took us nearly as long as the first had. Ratbat scouted ahead, searching for guards. There weren't too many. I figured it was because they poisoned us all anyway. A normal escapee would die before long. I had a feeling that what they were to us doing wasn't something they were supposed to be doing, because it would've been easier to just shoot us or something; therefore, they used the less noticeable method to kill that was lethal injections. And I was glad they did; I might be able to survive certain toxins, but I couldn't rebuild my brain one a bullet went through it. Once we finally reached the ground, Ratbat informed us that the stockade had a lot of open space around it. Lovely. We found the most overgrown route possible and alligator-crawled our way across the ground. Had it been any warmer, I would have let Writhe go ahead. Once we reached the first trees of the forest that had claimed the worst part of the surrounding town, Whiteback told me that he knew this place. I asked him how, and he said his first carrier used to come here for '…supplies.' I didn't know what he meant by that, and I didn't ask. I found a hollow in the base of a tree and fitted myself into it. Then I went to sleep.

I woke up early the next morning. Too early. Whiteback was crashed about five feet away and I could sense the two other symbionts in my pocket dreaming. Barricade was sprawled alongside a log in a position that was going to give him cricks in his neck. I crawled out of the hollow and stretched. My head was fuzzy. I realized for the first time that I was becoming accustomed to a routine of a lot of travelling and a lot less sleep. Three weeks was a longer time than it seemed. I didn't want to wake Whiteback, so I didn't touch the berry bush nearby. The opossum knew all about what to eat in the woods, and his knowledge had saved us once or twice already. I found an easily recognizable raspberry plant and nibbled on the fruit. It felt good to actually eat something. I felt bad for my symbionts; in order to conserve resources, they hadn't eaten at all lately. They were surviving off of my life force; therefore, I was the only creature that ate or drank. All four of us were bordering on skin and bone. Barricade was the only prisoner I had seen at the stockade who'd looked like he'd had anything decent to eat anytime recently. Being an Officer, he'd most likely been better off than the rest of us… which brought me back to my question of why he was there at all. How had they caught him? Officers were nasty pieces of work. They were broad shouldered and well-fed, and anyone else was generally of slighter build and hungry. That totaled to trouble. Barricade didn't stray far from the stereotypical Officer template. He was definitely broad shouldered, he seemed like he got enough to eat, and he had incredible reflexes and strength to go with them. But he was a little shorter than the average Officer, only about five foot ten. Usually they stood somewhere between six and six-four. That didn't necessarily make him any easier to subdue though. Part of me reminded myself that it was none of my business what he was doing here, but the rest of my brain, trained to a frightening level at finding excuses and loopholes, announced that since I had saved his life, it was very much my business. I decided I'd bother him about it later. I returned to the hollow and went back to sleep.

The world crawled into my mind and shook me awake with the sound of a twig crunching. Whiteback was still dozing out in the open, so I snatched his tail and reeled him in. He jumped, froze, than relaxed when he realized it was just me.

_What about Barricade?_ asked Ratbat, also aware of the situation. My eyes flickered to the Officer on the other side of the clearing.

_Better if he doesn't wake. If he moves, they might hear him. Like this he's almost silent. Better—he looks dead._ Because he was in such an awkward position, Barricade _did_ almost look dead: head to one side, back slightly arched and almost completely still.

_If they see him I can wander over there and pretend to eat him,_ thought Whiteback.

_Very funny._ Another twig broke. _Ratbat, go try to get a visual. Climb up this tree and don't let them see you at any cost. Okay?_

_Got it,_ he thought back and crawled out of my jacket pocket. I placed him on the tree trunk and he slowly hooked his way up using his wing talons.

_What happens if they find us? Then what do we do?_ questioned Writhe. I hadn't noticed him wake. But then again, nothing about Writhe was easily noticed.

_Then we fight them, I guess._

_All of us?_

_As many as needed._ Ratbat sent me an alert. It had a sense of urgency with it. _What?_

_They have guns._

_Shit. How many of them are there? _

_Four._

_Too many to fight. Good job. Now come back here._ Ratbat fluttered around the tree and landed on my shoulder huddled beneath my jacket collar.

_He's awake,_ informed Whiteback. I turned my head so that I could see Barricade. His eyes had widened slightly in understanding. I tilted my head in the direction of the gunmen. He nodded, then carefully slid backwards until he was behind a few bushes. Then I couldn't see him anymore. I tapped into Ratbat's hypersensitive hearing and registered voices.

"…if you find any of them."

"…if it's him?"

"Kill him anyway." Part of me wondered who they were talking about. Another twig snapped, followed by slight rustling. I had recognized the voices of one of the guards and their Captain. I didn't like this at all.

_Get inside my pocket. Now._ I felt Ratbat shrink and crawl into the bulletproof casing. Whiteback was more reluctant, but he too obeyed. I knew the guards would find us. It was just a matter of time. I edged out of the crevice and began climbing up the tree. I was careful not to make any noise as I moved into a position where I could drop down onto an attacker. Two men stepped into the clearing. I froze. The second-in-command had a tattoo on his neck. The tattoo said something in a language I didn't understand, but I knew what the presence of the mark meant. It explained the hawk on his shoulder. He was a carrier. I registered my symbionts' shock. I willed them to stay quiet. The hawk flicked its wing feathers across his master's neck and in less than a second the man had drawn his gun and fired into the bushes where my Officer companion had hidden. Fear rushed through my veins. Then suddenly a navy flash knocked the third soldier down. Barricade was alive. I watched him elbow his opponent over the head and knock him out, then back up against the opposite side of the tree to dodge the gunfire. The fourth soldier wasn't so lucky. He was about Barricade's height and the captain shot him by accident. I chose now to leap out of the tree behind the captain. I kicked him in a specific spot and he howled and dropped to the ground. Looking back, I would never have done that had I known what would come next. The carrier, Sandstriker, was an experienced fighter. He'd known the whole time where I was. The next thing I knew, there was a sound like thunder and a stab of agony in my left arm. He wasn't a bad shot for whipping around spontaneously. On instinct I shrieked, and felt an angry white blob launch itself off of my right shoulder. The hawk screamed in fury and feathers met fur. The captain had gotten back up and looked straight at Barricade's approaching fist before it all went black for him. The carrier raised his gun but a black and brown blur knocked it out of his hand—_Ratbat_, I thought dully. Barricade kicked and punched the carrier a few times and absorbed a few well-placed hits before breaking his opponent's collarbone with a sickening crunch. The other man howled and took off running. The hawk disengaged itself from a very angry opossum and flew after him. At this point, I just wanted to pass out, but that didn't happen. I felt myself shaking violently. Writhe had curled up around my upper arm and squeezed, but he wasn't a constrictor so it didn't help stop the bleeding very much. The wound burned as if the bullet was acid. Barricade came over and crouched in front of me. He had a bruise forming underneath his right eye, but looked otherwise unharmed.

"Where'd he get you?" he demanded. I turned my head toward my arm, whimpering involuntarily. "Here, lemme see…" he lifted my elbow so that he could get a better look at the wound. "Dammit, the one time I don't have a first aid kit…" He looked me in the eye. "This is going to hurt, okay? Just try not to scream too loud, we don't want more of them coming, understand?" I nodded. "Tell your snake to squeeze real hard, alright?" Writhe nodded. Ratbat landed on my shoulder. "Ready?" I felt Writhe's hold tighten. Searing pain bolted through me and I turned my head down, lips pulled back in a snarl, jaws slightly parted in a silent scream. My head went white for a few moments before I heard Ratbat through a fog of pain.

_Mirr… Mirr? It's over Mirr. You can look now._ I cautiously opened my eyes. Barricade had his right thumb pressed against my arm. Something red glinted in his left hand.

"Don't suppose you want it back, do you? He held up the blood-stained bullet. I shook my head. Whiteback was digging through my backpack (which I had stolen from the stockade and filled with anything remotely useful) searching for something to use as a bandage. He settled on a guard's uniform shirt and began biting off a piece. "Possum, can you chew any faster?" grumbled Barricade.

"Mo, mow fut up," growled Whiteback through a mouthful of fabric.

We left as soon as my arm was bandaged. The first soldier that Barricade had clobbered was beginning to stir and we didn't want any more trouble. Barricade had offered to carry the backpack and I'd let him. Whiteback rested on my right shoulder. The opossum told me that I was being a really good sport, but I didn't answer. I wanted something else to focus on. We reached the deserted town's outskirts just as the sun was setting. Barricade had set a brisk pace and, though he never outright said it, expected that I keep up. We scouted through the decrepit area named Site 42, meaning it was the 42nd site to be recognized as an uninhabited zone by the military. We decided we'd use the remains of an old watchtower as shelter. It wasn't much warmer inside, but Whiteback had stolen some flint and a pocket knife (which had been put to use earlier to remove the bullet from my arm), so we did end up with a source of heat. That was when each of us shared our stories.

Ratbat explained how previous his carrier was called Soundwave. The man had been withdrawn and somewhat cold, but was extremely protective of his charges and experienced. They'd been living in my city for only a short time. Soundwave had two other symbionts: A lammergeyer (also called a bearded vulture) called Laserbeak and a panther named Ravage. The three had worked with their carrier for a very long time (given symbionts' extended lifetimes), and were in perfect sync. When Ratbat had discovered that they were missing, he'd frantically searched for days. He'd become tired and dehydrated, and a pack of teenage boys had appeared and attempted to force him to swallow a stick. I'd seen this and told them to stop, but nobody took a scrappy, short teenage girl seriously, so I'd ended up snatching the symbiont from them and running. After Ratbat had regained his strength, he'd revealed that he was a symbiont and that he suspected that I was a carrier. I'd then volunteered to go and help him find his cohort, because anything was better than where I'd been living. Ratbat had then shown me how to form a link and we'd been on our way. We'd encountered Writhe next; his previous carrier had had little regard for the safety of his charges, and many of them were injured or killed. The snake had been relieved when his carrier had finally been shot, and for a few years he'd lived in solitude, distrustful of anything that came near. He'd actually bitten me when I'd first encountered him, and during the four-plus hours it had taken me to recover, Ratbat had explained the situation. Writhe wasn't entirely sure what had made him take us up on our offer to let him come, but he had, and so here he was. Whiteback's story was similar; an irresponsible and unfeeling carrier, dangerous missions—but the opossum had taken it a step farther than Writhe; he'd actively severed his link to his carrier himself and run away. He'd liked me right away when I passed through his territory, but he hadn't wanted to travel with me. He wasn't sure about taking another carrier. He had, however, lead me through the area that he knew well in search of clues as to Soundwave's location. Whiteback had explained how my personality was so alien to the carriers that he'd known that he was curious and had been eager to help us as long as we were nearby. But when it had come time for Writhe, Ratbat and I to move on, the opossum had been torn. In the end, because of my differences from the "textbook" carrier, he'd caved and tagged along. Happily, he said it was one of the best decisions he'd made. I was rather flattered at how much the opossum cared about me, and I suppose he was pleased with how much I put into keeping my symbionts comfortable. He was the symbiont whom I considered myself closest to; I could trust him with anything. There were some things that I just couldn't talk to anybody else about, but Whiteback would always be willing to listen. And then there was me. My story started far before I met Ratbat. Due to what the others had explained, I decided to tell only the beginning of my story; the part before I met Ratbat. My original name was Reina. But I was a different person while I wore that name, so I always talked about Reina in the third person. Reina had no memory before seven years of age. She had to be told what her name was. She would sit at the dinner table and wonder who the other kids were. They wondered who she was; there was rarely a new kid at that orphanage. She didn't remember her parents, didn't remember her favorite color or where she used to live. And she certainly didn't talk to the other orphans. She'd often dream about a black eagle she called Kyre. The eagle had told her she was different, and that she had to learn to run. None of the other kids wanted to talk to her because she talked about Kyre so much; it was like an obsession. The other kids also complained that she woke up screaming in the middle of the night. Eventually, Reina got fed up with the place and ran away two years later. After she left, no-one saw her ever again. Out in the city alone, nobody would tell her that her nightmares weren't real, so she slept in fear until she fought them. They never came back after that. Kyre, the raven—she knew what he was now—was gone. After a few weeks she managed to earn the sympathy of a landlord and he let her have half of a duplex. She had known how to read since before she could remember, knew how math worked, knew how to write. She honed these skills in her free time. She did chores in exchange for food. There were three Officers in her area. They didn't like her. One had a dog; a huge mutt. He'd let it chase her, and it was always faster. One time it bit her badly on her right leg. It took four months to heal. Four months without a steady food source. At ten years old after those four months she was twenty-five pounds underweight. The last day the dog chased her was a week and a half after those four months. She ran into an alley, and the Officers and their dog rounded the corner. She turned and glared at them. Told them to leave her alone and go back to stealing people's food. They didn't like that. But she didn't try to run, she just stood there. Something about her scared the dog. It backed away and hid behind its person. Despite its masters' orders, it refused to chase her again. The Officers would still run after her, but she knew how to lose a tail that had no nose. She got away. They didn't recognize her after age sixteen, when she cut her hair short. She liked it better that way. At age seventeen, she decided she didn't like her name. It didn't suit the person she had become. She invented a new name for herself, one that would serve her better. My name is Mirr, short for Mirror. Every time I looked at my reflection, I saw more than just my image; I saw who I used to be; somewhere there, in the depths of my memory, there is Reina. But I called myself Mirror because every time Reina looked at my namesake, she saw a timid and frightened child, and she decided to change that. So she changed so that when she saw her reflection, she'd be proud of the face she'd see staring back at her. And I was.

After a brief period of silence, Barricade asked me if I had any theories as to my unknown childhood. I said I did. Meanwhile, Whiteback was snuffling around the rubble. The small cuts on his sides from the hawk's talons were beginning to scab over. I was a bit relieved by that; if any of them got infected he was a goner.

"Personally, I wonder if… Have you heard of Trait Splicing?"

"No. What is it?" I sighed.

"Trait Splicing is basically cloning two individuals, then taking one for a template and removing certain aspects of it and replacing those missing pieces with the aspects of the other."

"Highly illegal, I'm assuming."

"You have no idea. They have military teams go and catch offenders and they throw them in the Maximum Security Federal Stockade." He snickered. "I'm serious!"

"Mmm hmmm…" I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever. So these kinds of experiments were common during the wars. Underground labs were trying to engineer the 'perfect soldier.' It didn't go well. They couldn't isolate the traits properly and sometimes ended up with exactly the opposite trait that they wanted. Most of the subjects were terminated, but Ratbat recently found some government articles referencing some fifteen or so subjects that were confiscated. Apparently, they were put through numerous psyche tests and any who passed were released. Those that didn't, well… Anyhow, so they have the identification numbers of all the subjects. Three or four of them have birth dates in the year 2501. That was about eighteen years ago. I wonder if… maybe I was one of those subjects… The laboratory that was raided was around the area I grew up in. The three Marked breeds—Nerollynixes, Psychi, and Agili—don't usually interbreed. It stands to reason that I exist because of one of the crosses." Barricade looked at me, curious.

"How do you know about the breeds? I know a little, but mainly only about mine…" I sighed.

"That, along with reading, math and other random facts, is one of the things I've known since before I can remember. Agili are humans with extreme flexibility, speed and agility. They tend to be thin with very fine light hair. Psychi are carriers. We're generally really tall, like 6'9'' and above, bony and flexible. Our most obvious features are our carrier talents. Anyhow, I'm assuming you would be classified as Nerollynix?" He hesitated, as if debating whether or not to say anything. These days, breeding was a touchy subject. I personally didn't care too much, but maybe that came from not having a traceable bloodline. Some people went as far as disowning children if they married outside a set breed. Others just didn't get along with specific breeds, and still others, like carriers, were mostly solitary and rarely reproduced at all.

"That's what it says on my I.D., isn't it?" Barricade said finally, dipping his head at Whiteback, who was wandering over to my lap. I sensed an unfinished story and my innate hunger for answers awoke in my brain. Whiteback nosed me and I knew he agreed.

"Who am I going to tell?" He sighed.

"Seventy-five percent."

"Pardon?"

"My mother was half." As usual, my geekiness kicked in.

"Um, actually, that doesn't necessarily make you exactly three-quarters. Because there are tons of ways chromosomes can combine…"

"By government standards, I would be classified as seventy-five percent," snarled Barricade. Judging by his facial expression, he'd snapped a little more aggressively than he'd meant to. Now I felt bad for bringing up the subject. I knew what else his mother had been; there was only one race that usually interbred with the major, or Marked (called that because people kept tags on the bloodlines of these races) breeds. Protos. The average human. Typically dark-haired and dark-eyed, but with scattered variation by location, Protos was the ethnic majority looked down upon as "less pure" blood. Now that I knew, I could see the slight distinguishing features that confirmed my hypothesis; Barricade had longer fingers than a textbook Nerollynix, darker hair, a more angular head shape and nose, and then there was the height difference. A typical Nerollynix, or War type, had a taller, broader form with hair color somewhere between dirty blond and Barricade's dark brown. Pure War types had round features and short, thick fingers (all the better to punch you with). They generally had pale blue or green eyes, with the occasional brown. Barricade's were somewhere between blue and blackish-gray. He shot me a look that he meant to portray indifference and minor amusement, but only succeeded in revealing his shame. I felt really bad now.

"How did they… How did you…keep it quiet?" The Officer sighed.

"I was in the war and they were pretty much after anyone they could get."

"Tell the whole story." He sighed and rearranged himself on the concrete.

"Better get comfortable, kid. It's a long one. Life for me started the same way it would for any kid in my hometown. I'm from east of here, near site 21, you know, the old Chicago? Kids my age and I would dare each other to go into the site and touch a rock or something else stupid. There was this hole under the fence that the Officials kept jamming up with barbed wire, especially after James broke his ankle jumping off a heap of rubble. We'd just pull it out. They weren't very good about it. There was a rumor that a carrier and his two wolf symbionts lived on the other side in an old factory. Rimmyr, we used to say his name was. 'Course, he probably didn't exist, but nobody was going to admit that. We'd go throw rocks at the windows or look in through a keyhole. We never saw anybody. On Halloween when I was around eight, the teenagers in town decided to prank us, and brought Riot, one of their dogs who was particularly wolfy-looking, to the site, sat on each other's shoulders and made moaning noises. They were holding a knife with ketchup on it and sent Riot after us. We screamed and ran, terrified. One of the neighbors—idiot was always drunk—didn't like the noise and pulled out his .45. Four shots. I don't think he meant to hurt us, but he sure as hell did. Gus got hit square in the stomach, and Terrance in the shoulder. The rest of us hid behind a crumbling brick wall, panting. I got picked to go see if Gus and Terrance were okay, while Paul and Mark waited in our hiding place. Terrance was bleeding and Gus didn't move. The Officers showed up and were eager to pin it on me. Except I didn't have a gun. They eventually let me go. Gus was dead. They never arrested his killer. Five years later, I was walking down the same street. That same neighbor got in a fight with a business partner. The guy, drunk as usual, fired at the business partner, who, in turn, pulled a revolver and shot the drunk. I saw the whole thing. Business partner wasn't too bright; up until there he could've claimed self-defense, but he panicked, saw me, a witness, and reloaded. Kid, you tell me any stories you want about somebody outrunning a man with a gun. You can't do it. From far away, the guy wasn't a very good shot, but he wasn't _that_ bad. I ended up limping home with two bullets in my right calf. Spent four hours in the E.R. with the nurses doing what I just did for you only cleaner and with better supplies, and they charged a small fortune for it too. My parents were pissed. The business partner was never tried. I think I was just a little older than you when I joined the Guerilla forces. They had me in a regiment called the Silver Army. At first, the war went pretty much in our favor. But at the end, they abandoned us when things got nasty. We had no food for weeks. That was when I began to wonder whether I was on the right side or not. Our cause had gotten… corrupted, as had many of the soldiers. We… We raided a town at that point. We were tired and starving so we attacked the first one we saw. It was bloody. They were supporting our enemies, and a few of them had guns. Most of them didn't. I was coming around the side of a building when out of nowhere this heavy pipe hit me over the head. I woke up several hours later. A kid (he was, I don't know, ten or something) was standing a few feet away. He had my gun. Was holding it all wrong mind you, but he still had it. My head hurt, and an old wound in my side had reopened. I don't know what I looked like, but I must've been a mess because he said, 'you look like a zombie'. I didn't move for a few minutes. The kid still had the gun pointed at me.

"Your friends all ran away. I don't know where. They stole our food," he said. I didn't say anything. What was there to say? I was hurting, and still hadn't eaten. I didn't have any fight left. "You're smaller up close," he commented, "not as mean."

"'You're older up close," I replied, "not so scared." He looked at me long and hard.

"What's it like to kill somebody?"' I couldn't answer that question—still can't. I said I didn't know. He looked at the gun. "My uncle went to war a few months ago. He got killed. Do you have a family?" I said I had parents. The kid put the gun down. "My mom says that she'd cry if I died. Would yours?"

"I think so," I said. He looked at weapon on the ground, then back at me.

"Why'd they kill people?" he asked, referring to my fellow soldiers. I said we were fighting for what we thought was right, and grudgingly added that we were hungry. "If you're hungry, why didn't you just ask? We had lotsa food. I woulda shared. Maxwell probably wouldn't have, but he's a **J**unior **E**ducated **R**ich **K**id anyway." I said we were enemies. "You don't look any different than us," was his response.

"I'm no politician, kid, I don't know the details. I just know who I'm supposed to be fighting." I had rolled onto my side and was getting up. He picked up the gun again. I put my hands in the air, then grabbed my side because it hurt; it had started bleeding again. The kid could see the bloodstain through my uniform.

"Did you get shot?" he asked. I said no, another soldier had stabbed me. He looked at me warily. "If I let you go, you gotta promise to never come back. You promise?" I nodded.

"I promise." He promptly escorted me out of town. A few mothers were watching this whole scene; you could see the worry in their eyes. At the edge of town he gave me my gun and a piece of bread.

"This way you won't get hungry." I stared at him. "So you don't hafta come back." I put my weapon away and took the bread.

"Thank you," I told him. A few weeks later, the Silver Army was defeated at Springfield. I wasn't there. I'll admit it; I deserted. But I deserted out of a change of heart, not cowardice. I had no intention of fighting a war that I didn't understand. I got a job as an Officer after that—I think that's when things got a little… hectic."

I asked what Barricade meant by 'hectic,' but he said it wasn't worth talking about. I gave him some space. Only long after the sun had set did he choose to tell me what I already suspected.

"Look, I—you asked me what—when they caught me, where I was or something…" He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. I nodded slowly. If he was going to tell me, he could take his time. If I told him to spit it out, he just wouldn't tell me at all. "You know how you—you're description of an Officer… what is it?" I decided I'd be blunt.

"Look, I'm not trying to be offensive, but this is what I've gathered from my personal experiences and those of others: Officers abuse their power to get what they want. That's about it. Not all of them do it, but the ones I encountered, on or off-duty, weren't the friendliest." Barricade was nodding, a strained expression on his face.

"Did yours have any… habits?" I figured that it might be easier for him if I said it for him, judging by the anxiety in his eyes.

"Yes, they all drank. When they caught you, you were drunk, weren't you?" He was absolutely still for a moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. "That what you meant by hectic?" He nodded again. I exhaled slowly. "Does it bother you? That… your life ended up… the way it did?" Ratbat shifted slightly on my shoulder and reminded me that I had to check my wound. I replied with a sense of acknowledgement. Barricade growled quietly to himself. "Hey, it's a tough world out there. I'm lucky; I have three incredible friends. They know how I feel all the time, and we lean on each other. It's harder, much harder, when you're alone." Barricade looked at me and I saw an exhaustion in his eyes that I hadn't noticed before. He looked older now. I decided to change the subject. "Are we taking watches?" He made a 'mmm' sound in answer. "Okay. I can take first shift." One charcoal-blue eye rested on me for a moment, then it, like its twin, closed. Ratbat nudged me. _I know, I know. We'll let it air out in the morning. For now I'll put some water on it._ The symbiont seemed satisfied with my reply, so he crawled into my jacket pocket. Two hours later, Writhe took the second shift, then Whiteback the third. There was no fourth. It was daylight by then. But we all slept through it anyway.

After I woke up, I examined my arm. It was still raw and bloody. I hoped it wouldn't get infected. Barricade was still asleep, so I decided to do a little exploring. I clambered up the wreckage of the tower until I got a decent view. The site was massive, even bigger than site 4, where I had first found Whiteback. I climbed higher. The more I saw, the stronger my dismay became. _How are we ever going to find one man and three symbionts if this is just one site the size of a pinhead on a map of this area? Forget about a needle in a haystack, this is like finding a flea in a city!_ Writhe's cool voice answered me.

_Not necessarily Mirr. Remember, as long as Ratbat can continue to trace his carrier's mental link, he will know what direction his cohort is in._ I sighed.

_I guess you're right._ The snake smiled mentally, proud of his own cunning. I climbed all the way to the summit of the tower. Writhe had curled up around my neck just below my jacket collar. He poked his head over it and tensed a little at the wind on his face. I chose now to summon Ratbat. The winged symbiont carefully crawled over Writhe's coils before assuming his usual size. _Ratbat, can you tell us what direction Soundwave is?_ After being captured I had completely lost my bearings. Hopefully our ordeal had brought us closer to our goal. Ratbat took off and flew a few circuits around the building. He came back and landed on my right shoulder.

_Twenty-four klix Northeast._ I grinned. Our captors had unwittingly brought us four klix (a klic is five miles) in the general direction we were headed in. Writhe—being Writhe—didn't often show powerful emotion or affection, so he responded to my jubilation with aloof satisfaction. It didn't bother me. I knew him well enough to know he was pleased as well. I sat there for about a half-an-hour, letting the wind whip past me; it was calming. Once I'd tired of it, I retraced my steps to the ground. Barricade had continued to sleep while I'd been at the top of the tower. I was getting a bit irritated, but didn't bother him. Ratbat's unease alerted me. _Mirr, I'm worried about Soundwave and the others. _

_Don't worry Ratbat. From what you told me, they can get through anything. _

_They haven't moved in a while; I…I would expect them to come looking for me…_

_Ratbat, was Soundwave the very first thing on our minds once we escaped from the stockade?_

_No…_

_Then perhaps the nature of his situation prevents immediate action._ He settled onto my shoulder. Writhe had long since retreated to my pocket due to the cold. Ratbat's unhappiness didn't relent, so I took another whack at it. _Look, we'll start moving again as soon as we can. I just don't want to randomly leave when we aren't prepared and we haven't told Barricade yet. It would be stupid and rude._

_I suppose you're right._ I was relieved to feel the symbiont relax a bit. He had had enormous strain placed on him in the past few days; all of my charges had, but particularly Ratbat due to his ability to fly.

_Get some rest. You'll need it._ He responded with a sense of muddled gratitude and agreement. After he had fallen asleep in the safety of my pocket, I felt a slight tapping on my consciousness. _Whiteback? Is that you?_ I received a miniscule sense of confirmation. He was trying not to disturb the other symbionts by using a quieter telepathic frequency. _Come out here. Then we can talk._ Obediently, the opossum crawled into the crook of my right arm.

"What's the matter?"

"Are we leaving then?"

"As soon as we're ready."

"What about Barricade?"

"What about him?"

"Where's he going to go?"

"Back home, I assume. Wherever home is for him. Look, I promised Ratbat we'd get moving, and Barricade is an adult; I don't see why you're…"

"No, I mean, think about it. He didn't want to talk about something that happened less than a week ago. I meant, do you think he'll be all right? Going back to all that? It… it's gonna be rough. He'll probably end up in the same position, won't he?"

"He probably will. We just have to hope he figures it out." It felt strange talking about how a person older than me needed to learn a lesson that I already understood. I waited for a considerable length of time and then decided that, for his own good, Barricade should probably wake up. I said his name a few times and he didn't move. My brain immediately took into account the possibility of a neurotoxin relapse, but he rolled over when I tapped him on the shoulder.

"What?" he asked groggily. I guessed it was sometime after noon by my shadow and cross-referenced Whiteback's internal clock.

"It's like, 2:30." He groaned and got to his feet, muttering something about too many night shifts.

"Awright, awright, I'm up. What's the problem?" I felt Whiteback reposition himself on my arm. I rubbed him behind the ears, careful of the scratches.

"We… were going to continue our search for Ratbat's carrier. I thought it'd be rude to just leave without telling you." He looked at me for a moment.

"Well good luck kid. Judging by where you've wound up, you'll need it. Before you go, lemme see your arm." I shifted it so that he could see the wound; I hadn't put my left arm in my jacket sleeve because it hurt too much to move it. "What?! Why've you got it uncovered like that? This is a _site_ kid; it'll get infected!" I sighed. I'd forgotten to re-bandage it. I'd known he'd give me grief about it.

"Exactly, it's a site. Nobody's lived here for like, fourteen years. The air doesn't get much cleaner than this." He shook his head.

"Seriously though, be _careful_. It's a hard life; especially for someone like you." My mouth twitched slightly into a sad smile.

"If only someone had told me that earlier. I could've been better prepared. You want anything from the backpack?"

"What's in here? Hang on…" He dug through the things that the symbionts and I had stolen. "You know how this works?" he asked, holding up an object I'd never seen before. I shook my head. He growled something about kids not being educated on proper safety. "Do you at least know what it is?" I shook my head again. He cursed, then turned back to me. "This particular item is a frequency detector. You can use it to see if there are any radio signals for about four hundred feet. It's not rocket science to use it; you turn it on, and you're the green blip in the middle. Everything else is either red or blue depending in the frequency it uses. I don't need it, but if those creeps are following you, it might be useful." He put it back in the backpack. He found another item, grumbled something I couldn't hear, and put it in his pocket. "Trust me, nothing you'll be needing." He explained a few other items to me, then gave me the backpack. I had replaced the bandage on my arm and Whiteback had given himself a thorough washing; we were ready. "Don't do anything stupid, kid. It'll cost you," Barricade warned. I nodded.

"I never do stupid stuff, just stuff that _seems_ stupid to the outside observer." He groaned.

"I mean it. Be _careful_."

"I know." I walked away in the direction Ratbat had indicated. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Barricade gathering his chosen items. I hoped that somehow he'd figure himself out. Whiteback seconded my opinion. I set a moderate pace; I had a long road ahead of me.


	3. Chapter 2

PFFFF this is old. OLLLDDDDD. I wrote this chapter years ago don't judge me based on it. pullleeeez. The recent (good) writing starts in Ch. 6 really but you need the background 'til then. Kay thanks bye.

OH BTW DONT HATE ME FOR PUTTING MAX AND KIYA (TOTALLY JUST MADE UP THE NAMES IF THEY MEAN SOMETHING I DIDN'T KNOW) IN THERE IDK I WAS BORED, WANTED TO TRY WRITING WITH AN ACCENT, LEMME KNOW IF IT SOUNDS HELLA FAKE OR ACTUALLY CONVINCING. MEMBER THIS IS OLD SO I WAS IMMATURE LITTLE DORKFACE WHEN I WROTE THEM.

kIYA IS SORT OF BASED OFF OF THIS WOMAN WHO WAS BASICALLY MY GRAMMA WHOS POLISH AND THAT'S ALSO WHERE I GOT ALL MY ACCENTS FROM. I ASSUMED CYRILLIC SPEECH PATTERNS ALL HAVE THE SAME VERB ARRANGEMENT AND BASED ACCENTS OFF OF THAT FORGIVE ME IF I'M DEAD WRONG BUT THIS IS SHIT ANYWAY IM JUST POSTING IT CUZ IT'S FUNNY AND A GOOD STORY I'M NEVER GONNA FINISH IT.

MAX IS A LITTLE SPECIAL; BECAUSE HE HAS REGULAR BREEDING ITS NEVER ALLUDED TO BUT HE'S NOT YOUR AVERAGE GUY. ACTUALLY NEITHER OF THEM ARE THEY'RE KINDOF LIKE THAT I DONT KNOW, JUST CALL THEM SPECIAL.

Chapter 2

It would be several weeks before I reached the next city. The climate had dried out considerably once I'd left site 42, and I was glad I had decided to bring water with me. Though arid, the land we crossed was cold and hard-packed beneath my feet. The wind was like ice past my ears. Ratbat would start shivering in mere minutes, so Whiteback was the most frequent symbiont on my shoulder. I shuffled across miles of battlefield, skirting the wreckage of tanks, bunkers and the occasional aircraft, and scavenging canteens and MRE's. Not until the fourth day would we see the slight outline of ruined buildings on the horizon. _Site 1,_ Whiteback informed me. I shuddered. Site 1 was a nasty piece of work, overgrown and collapsing to the point that it was deemed hazardous. There were even Officers that patrolled the limits to keep ignorant passersby like myself away. Site 1 was the first site registered and the only site to be guarded. It was abandoned some seventy-something years ago after a deadly air raid. It was massive. There was no way for me to go around it, so I'd have to go straight through it. Then there was the matter of evading the Officers. But that wasn't a problem. I was very practiced at that.

"Are you sure this doesn't qualify as stupid? Because Barricade said not to do anything stupid."

"_Barricade_ is not in this situation with us. And it's less stupid than just going up to the Officers and politely asking them to let us through."

"Crawling through a sewer trying not to fall into a stream of toxic waste?" Writhe questioned. I developed an overwhelming desire to punch him.

"It's not 'toxic waste'." Truthfully, I wasn't entirely sure. "And at least it's warmer in here."

"Joy."

"Stop being a smartass and tell me if I'm going the right way."

"How should I know?" I moaned.

_Ratbat, how's the scouting going?_ I asked my companion mentally.

_Well actually, for once. I think I might've found a way out._

_Tell me where to go. _I returned to the task of spidering across the pipes in the ceiling. It was relatively easy for a person with my experience. _Turn left up ahead. The pipe collapsed and blocked the path or I'd have you go straight._ I thanked Ratbat and clambered through the maze. Writhe didn't show it, but he was nervous. I was too. What would it be like inside the site? Were there zombies or other mutilated creatures? Finally, after what seemed like forever, I reached a sewer cap. Ratbat fluttered onto my shoulder, apprehensive. Writhe had retreated to my pocket.

"Look, however bad it is up there, not much is worse than the escape from the stockade. Remember that." I popped the cap off and poked my head and shoulders out. Then I stared in shock. The city was unrecognizable.

Site 1 didn't cry out 'misery'. It didn't scream it either. It uttered a long low moan that formed no words but spoke millions. I had seen photographs of what the city used to look like, a bustling center of a bygone age; an age that the old people used to tell me their parents referred to as the Glory Time. Before the sickness that was war began to ravage our world. The city shivered in a threadbare coat of gray fog. Ancient bloodstains blanketed the ground, and bones of those who hadn't escaped lay draped over wreckage. The bomb that had ended this place was non-nuclear, but that was hard to believe based on the scope of destruction; the attackers had left no building untouched. The true bomb site, visible beyond the wreckage of what used to be a theater and the shattered window of a storefront, was an unbelievable 1.2 klix in diameter. I could barely see the other side from here. The structures that crowded the site were disintegrating, and dust rushed across the street in pale rivers. I could only imagine the terror that the residents must have felt in response to the dark rain of ashes and rubble that fell the day the bomb was dropped. The place, though completely obliterated, commanded a sort of respect. I didn't speak for the energy of the site was such that I felt it would be to commit some ancient injustice if I were to make too loud a sound. Worse; perhaps if I made too much noise, the thunder and roar of the bombs would begin again. Thankfully, none of my companions spoke either; I wondered if they too were in awe of the falling city. Though fall it did, it did so with a dignity and pride that I could imagine as being a part of all who had once inhabited it. I pressed on through the streets and toward the other side. I felt it would be disrespectful to stay longer than necessary.

The pain in my arm had increased significantly with each passing day after we'd left site 1. I knew it was infected, but I didn't tell my symbionts lest it worry them. But it slowly became obvious that they knew; Ratbat would be mindful of the area when he rested on the base of my neck and Whiteback would avoid my left shoulder altogether. We trekked northward, but I became more and more disoriented. I caught Write sneaking in through a powerful mental link and hacking my immune system, trying to make it fight the contamination. It didn't work and I knew it wouldn't work; I'd tried it already. By the time I reached the outskirts of the next city, I was feverish and dehydrated. I had no idea what time it was or how many days it had been since I'd last eaten. This town, though farther north, was desert terrain; it was around ninety degrees Fahrenheit during the day, and dropped to twenty at night. I was sweating, which only made things worse. Kiya found me later that day.

Kiya was a plump, middle-aged woman from what might've once been Ukraine a few hundred years ago who lived with her brother, Maximum; they'd had chosen their own names once they came to what remained of America, and I still wasn't sure why she'd picked "Kiya". Maximum was a registered nurse who spoke no less than eight languages fluently: English, Ukrainian, Russian, Polish, French, Spanish, Portuguese and German. He was eleven years older than Kiya. Kiya was very friendly, kind and sympathetic. She took me to her house and asked Maximum to treat my wound. He did, free of charge, and I felt bad for it, especially because I knew that they didn't know what I was. I was sure that they wouldn't have helped me had they known I was a carrier. I stayed with them for a few days before Kiya requested that I allow her to wash my jacket. Then I knew I would have to explain. I started off vaguely, but Kiya and Maximum were too sharp not to catch on that I was hiding something.

"I uh, well, have… unique talents…" I said. Kiya's eyes narrowed.

"What kind of unique are we talking about?" The Ukrainian had no noticeable accent whatsoever… until she became angry about something. Then her English would shatter like glass.

"Well, most people don't have them…"

"Most people?"

"Ah… It's a family thing…"

"You said you don't remember your family."

"I don't… Ah…"

"This have to do with breeds, no?" Maximum cut in. He had a much stronger accent than his sister which became so powerful whenever he was upset as to render his English completely impossible to understand.

"Maybe…"

"What breed is you?" I muttered 'mixed' under my breath. "Mixed? What mixed?"

"Nerollynix and… Psychi…" I barely whispered the last one, but he caught on quickly.

"Psychi? Like what is carrier? What a Psychi want with a Nerollynix I no understand." I sighed.

"I'm not sure, I didn't know my parents…"

"Then how you know you Psychi?" This was where I knew it had to end. They had to meet my charges.

"I'm not sure about the Nerollynix. I know I'm Psychi for sure. I… have a few friends to prove it…" I removed Whiteback, the least intimidating of my Symbionts, from my pocket and stroked him. Kiya backed up in fear, but Whiteback only rubbed against my fingers contentedly as I scratched his ear. "He doesn't bite…" Neither of them said a word. I felt the inevitable coming. "I… I'll leave… if you want me to… I don't want to be a bother…" I took a step back, but Kiya stopped me.

"No, that would be rude. We cannot send you off only because you have a power in your blood that we cannot comprehend. We don't control that, none of us. Our physical form is chosen for us, only our character is not. You may stay until you find yourself ready to leave." I thanked them and (carefully) introduced them to my other two friends. Kiya and Maximum would become my failsafe, my backup, and my support. I would owe them my life and the lives of others time and time again. And they never asked for anything in return.

With access to Maximum's computers, Whiteback and Writhe began designing and altering maps of our progress. Ratbat and I would constantly register any change in Soundwave's position. There weren't many. This led us to believe that he too was hiding. We had a long way to go, but I was astounded to learn how far we'd come only on foot. We'd gotten lost and ended up going northwest, so we needed to move eastwards a great deal. Weeks passed, and Maximum did his best, but he could find no maps that possessed the accuracy that we required. After some long hours in front of a glowing screen, the four of us decided to go out for a walk. We would sometimes just go out to get exercise, but today was different: I had a cold feeling and an overwhelming need to move. We were walking along a side street in the industrial district when I felt an unknown presence brush the edge of my consciousness. The other symbionts sensed it too. It wasn't directed at me; it was just as if something almost ghostly had passed by. Ratbat said it reminded him of Ravage, but Ravage's consciousness was much darker and very still. This one was lightning fast and had a lighter feel to it, almost like someone had thrown flour just past my ear. My curiosity snapped shut like a mousetrap and I followed it. I crept down allies and past trash cans, acknowledging the various warnings that my symbionts presented and cautiously pressing farther. As I neared an open area, I felt an overpowering sense of dread. I didn't know what was up ahead, but part of me didn't want to. _Stop being a chicken,_ I grumbled mentally to myself and carefully snuck around the corner. And time turned back.

Memories flooded my mind; it was like a tsunami of them. They struck me blind. After moving so far I felt years older where barely a few months had passed. All the pain, all the lost, all the fear, all the uncertainty… it had aged me. The next time I would see a picture of myself I would deny that it was me. Not because the caption said Reina, or because the hair was still long, but from the facial expression. From the eyes. My once naïve blue eyes had darkened; had hardened. Where there had been fear there was caution and knowing. What had once been playfulness was now a wry sense of humor. Mild interest had become hunger. But the most powerful differences between the two pictures were my physical features. I had been smiling in the older one. When asked about it, I had replied, "I don't smile like that anymore." And it was true. My mouth had developed lines that one might mistake for smile crinkles until they saw me pull my lips back in a savage snarl; that was the cause of the lines. My eyebrows rested closer to my eyes than before, having gravitated there in response to all the stress reflected in them. My face had become decidedly more skull-like, the lines of my jaw and brow visible through the flesh. My once bright eyes had dulled until they had become a dark shade of silver only vaguely reminiscent of blue. My hair had faded slightly. Kiya would not recognize the picture of Reina as me when it was shown to her.

The most poignant of the memories were more recent though. I couldn't believe how far back into my mind they had been pushed. One was of a dark, gray, moist room. Another was of a place that felt like the wind owned it. The most powerful was of the second floor of a crumbling structure and a fire that painted the walls gold. The last and most relevant though, was the first floor of that building. Whiteback was speaking to me. And then I was in the present.

I wasn't sure if the person sprawled in the center of the alley was dead or not, but they certainly would be judging by the man standing in the shadows. He shakily held a gun in his left hand, and had a strained, furious expression on his face. He clutched a flask in his right hand. I felt a wave of pity and sadness wash over me. I didn't know what to do. At that moment I felt another rush of that strange ghostly feeling strike through me. A huge white dog dashed out of the shadows and snapped vice-like jaws shut on the gunman's arm. He howled and dropped his weapon, and, wrenching his limb free of the canine's mouth, took off running, his unsteady gait carrying him dangerously close to the street once out of the alley. The dog trotted after him and barked until he was out of sight, then the massive creature vanished as quickly as it had come. I turned my attention to the figure lying face-up on the pavement. Though his face was bruised, bloodied and more unshaven than the last time I'd seen him, it was impossible to forget. I shook his shoulder.

"Barricade. Barricade? _Barricade!"_ His mouth twitched slightly as he recognized his name. "C'mon, sit up." From the look on his face, I knew he was going to be sick. I was right. He leaned over to his left and threw up. I put my disgust to the back of my mind. He fell back to his prior position looking dazed and pained, his head lolling slightly. I felt Whiteback crawl out of my pocket to explore. I replaced my hand on Barricade's shoulder again and noticed he was shaking. I didn't understand completely at first; I assumed it was simply a side effect of overconsumption of alcohol. "Okay, come on, let's try this again." He didn't look like he was going to move. "Listen, if you want my help, you're going to have to help me help you." A slight groan that sounded more like a whimper was my only answer, but he managed to sit up.

_Mirr… Mirr, look—look at his leg…_ I obeyed Whiteback and almost wished I hadn't. Just above Barricade's right ankle was a large spot of crimson liquid that oozed in an ever-expanding stain on his pant leg. I let my breath escape from between my teeth in a low hiss. I caught Barricade's right shoulder as he started swaying and noted that he was still shaking—much more violently now. The sun was beginning to set and the temperature was already dropping drastically. I was beginning to feel chilled myself, and I knew a combination of shock and hypothermia would spell death for Barricade. We had to get him somewhere safe if he was going to see tomorrow.

"All right, let's get out of here." I ducked my head under Barricade's right arm. "We're standing on three, okay?" I sensed his confusion. "We have to leave. I want you to stand up when I count to three. Do you understand me?" I slowed and emphasized my speech to make it easier to process. "All right, let's go. You have to get up now, okay? Ready?" He tensed. "One… Two… Three." He leaned heavily on me until he managed to get his left foot steady. Whiteback scampered over to my feet. "Okay Whiteback, I need you to be a distraction. Run ahead and try to draw people away from us, got it? Ratbat, fly back to Kiya and Maximum's house and tell them we're coming and we'd really appreciate it if they would help him," I said, inclining my head toward Barricade, "but they don't have to." The winged symbiont fluttered off my chest and away into the night. Whiteback trotted off in front of us, ears turning, searching for anyone who might notice a short girl and a drunk man staggering down the street. We navigated down backstreets and through alleys, trying to move as quietly as possible. I wasn't sure Barricade even understood the situation; he said nothing and made no noises. He only limped along beside me, doing his best to avoid stepping on his right foot. I wasn't a very effective human crutch, but I was better than nothing.

As night began creeping toward us, I felt both Barricade's and my own strength fading. He was basically squashing me. "Almost there, almost there," I growled aloud, just as much to myself as to the Officer leaning on me. Once darkness fell, the situation reached a level that neither my or Barricade's body could tolerate. My entire form ached and twitched with muscle spasms, screaming at me to stop. Barricade was shaking so badly that he could barely hold on to my shoulder, and he didn't dare touch his right leg to the ground. Whiteback told me later that I had nearly carried the Officer at that point. Time ended for me there.

Maximum rescued the both of us from that nightmare two blocks later. I wasn't sure how he managed it, but he _did_ drape Barricade over his shoulders and carry him all the way back to the house. He told me that he had been in the war too; from ages 18 to 22. Then he had stayed in what had once been America searching for a job. My memory gave out at that point. Whiteback told me that I had just forced myself to follow Maximum back to the house and curled up on the sofa once we got there.

When I awoke the next morning Kiya was sitting at the dining room table waiting patiently to talk to me. Once I'd scarfed down some toast, she politely asked that I explain exactly who Barricade was. I sighed and told her the whole story. She was horrified by the end of it, and started speaking very violently in Ukrainian. Maximum came in, looked back and forth between us, and asked what was going on and how did I feel. Kiya spoke very rapidly to him in Ukrainian and he muttered what I took to be swears under his breath. He told me I was lucky to be alive. I smiled wryly and informed him that that was a matter of opinion; I was also tortured with the curse of not dying early on and escaping the suffering.

"Ah, but suffering is story of life! He what struggle live, he what not is die. If you not suffer, then you not live." I laughed and said I'd just about had enough of living. Kiya stopped us there ("No more this stupid person talk what dying!") and gave me a glass of apple juice. I drank it (gratefully) and thanked the two of them for helping Barricade. Maximum told me that the Officer wasn't in any immediate danger and that he would probably wake up later in the day. I nodded and then my symbionts and I returned to our work.

Ratbat was flying circles around the house searching for Soundwave's movements and checking and rechecking our own when Kiya stuck her head out the second floor window and asked if I was on the roof again. I was, and there was no point in hiding it, so I just called down "yeah!" I heard her mutter a few things to herself, then she asked why I was doing such a thing. I told her that I was collecting and organizing all of Ratbat's data and sharing the mental maps I was plotting in my head with Writhe who was tracking our progress on the computer with Whiteback. She muttered a few things again then shut the window. Then she apparently climbed up to the attic, because she stuck her head out the third-floor window and asked if I needed anything to eat. I said that I'd eaten two sandwiches; I was fine. She nodded and vanished back into the house. About two hours later Maximum called up to me from the first floor window, but I had no idea what he was saying. He tried the second floor but it had gotten windier and we still couldn't hear each other, so he had to go all the way up to the attic anyway. So much for trying to avoid it. Ratbat completed one last data circuit and landed on my shoulder just as Maximum pushed open the window.

"Your friend," he said, clearly exasperated, "want talk with you."

"Oh. Sorry, I couldn't hear you."

"I understand; you come inside now; we getting worry." I followed him down to the first floor, where I was expected to eat the mashed equivalent of six Yukon Gold Potatoes, which didn't go over well with either me or Maximum, who (to my relief) explained the prospect of '_too much'_ to his sister. Then I followed the both of them to another of the guest bedrooms.

Barricade, being Barricade, was doing his absolute best not to appear in need of anything. He was sitting up (to Kiya's dismay and Maximum's indifference) and trying not to appear dizzy. I had to admit, for how terrible he must have been feeling, he did a good job of it. He gestured that I sit down in the chair next to the bed, so I did. Ratbat clawed his way onto my left shoulder so that he could see better; his outrageously terrible sense of sight required that he be within four feet of anything living to be able to properly see its facial expressions. Maximum asked Kiya to bake some cookies or something, then closed the door behind her and sat in another chair on the other side of the room. He crossed his legs and put on a somewhat amused expression.

"Now what annoying and overprotective sister is distracted, how everyone feel?" I said I was fine, thanks, and Barricade echoed me with a slight difference in wording. "I know she is fine," he pointed at me with a pen I hadn't noticed he was holding, "but you… What you thinking? How many beers you have; ten, twelve?" He shook his head. "Stupid, very stupid. You lucky you have such good friend." I recognized the attempted look of indifference on Barricade's face, but once again his eyes betrayed him. I could see pain in them. For a split second, I wondered if he was going to cry. He sighed. Maximum fixed his dagger-like stare on Barricade. Maximum's eyes were very powerful; rather than dulled by escape, alcohol and insecurity like the Officer's were, the nurse's were tempered and heated. Barricade's eyes reminded me of a fire that had long since gone out. A person' eyes, Kiya would tell me later, portrayed everything they'd lived through. Mine told of my willingness to press on and finish what I had promised I would do. She also said that a very rare power lived in them. My eyes had certainly darkened in the months since my departure, but the darkness had only accented the powerful light that shone behind them. Hope, determination, loyalty… she said that my eyes had not turned gray because of these traits. Many who had crossed the desert or faced great hardships, she told me, had eyes dulled almost black. But mine were silver. I wondered if that was a side effect of being a carrier, but she said nonsense, my choices determined my eye color. Maximum's were molten gold, burning into all and any who dared to meet their fiery gaze. Barricade inevitably lost the staring contest. He placed his hand on his forehead and grimaced. "Not be so happy now?" growled Maximum. "Alcohol substitute for rest, friend and emotional stabil-ty. But very bad substitute, because it give none those things." Maximum picked up a small item off the table next to him. He turned it over in his hands, looking grave. "What you think this do? You think this matter what you is drinking? I see men try what control how much they drinking, but it never working. Never."

_He's holding a blood alcohol meter,_ Whiteback informed me, _that's one of the things Barricade took from the backpack._ I replied with a sense of understanding. That made sense. I remembered the Officer swearing, and grumbling "trust me, nothing you'll be needing". No wonder. Maximum replaced the meter on the table and cocked his head at me.

"You know he like this?" I frowned at him. "Forgive my accent… You know he drink? From before? He tell you?" I nodded. Maximum returned his gaze to Barricade. "You no understand what lucky you. You freeze to death she no find you. People what Mirr hard to find; people what no care what habits is having you. I having problem like you long time ago. My sister help me, I learn. I learn, I better now. You need learn too. Understand?" Barricaded nodded slowly. He wasn't crying, but the waves of stress and emotion—guilt, shame, pain—that Ratbat told me were radiating off of the Officer were almost the same thing. His eyes flickered over toward me.

"Didn't… didn't mean for you to… to see me like this…" I gave him a sad smile.

"Even the best of us wrestle with something. And we don't always win. That's why we need other people; we need someone to be able to give our vices a good kick in the balls." He huffed. "And sometimes we need a good whack over the head ourselves to set things straight," I added. His face twitched in a way that echoed a smile.

"Thanks, kid…" he muttered. "That bullet wound ever close?" I shrugged my jacket off my left shoulder so that he could see the scar.

"Maximum and Kiya helped me out. It got infected." Barricade winced. "Frankly though, my wounds aren't the ones you should be focused on." Though Barricade was wearing one of Maximum's shirts and I could no longer see the various bloodstains, I knew that he had stitches across his left collarbone and probably in other areas as well. "Did that guy have a knife or something?"

"I don't remember. It's all… fuzzy…" He growled quietly under his breath. I could sense his disappointment in himself. Maximum cut in.

"Mirr, you see other man? What he look like?"

"Um, he was blond, brownish black eyes, he had a gray flask—Whiteback says it had vodka in it, he could smell it—and he was wearing an old overcoat."

"He tall?"

"Yeah, really. Like, six foot seven kind of tall." Maximum grunted.

"Mmm. You watch out this man; he sometimes come wit here. Not friendly. He take Kiya wallet once. What you do what make him leave?"

"I didn't; there was a really big, white dog, and it just bit the guy's arm. Then it chased him off. It was weird." Maximum was nodding.

"I know what dog you see; he sometimes come here look for food. Once was retired soldier's dog. Soldier killed in shooting twelve years ago. Dog still here."

"Twelve years is a long time for a dog," remarked Barricade. Maximum shrugged.

"I know just story, not facts."

"Interesting story," Barricade commented. I had been organizing different bits of memories in my head, trying to piece together a proper understanding of the situation.

"Hey Barricade, forgive me for asking, but… what are you doing here? I mean, do you live around here or something…?" The Officer sighed.

"You know Mirr, that _is_ a bit personal…"

"Oh, sorry. If you don't want to talk about…"

"I'm just letting you know..."

"Well, um thanks, I guess…" He gave me a look.

"Some people get really defensive about that stuff."

"I know."

"Then why are you…?"

"Well I know you… sort of."

"Sort of is not a long time."

"No but we each owe the other their life."

"You have to stop with the insane nosiness."

"It in her blood. You want try what keep hound from trail, go ahead," laughed Maximum. "Her kind not normal so open, but always in head they thinking what next. Always they want know more. It is Nerollynix that make her so fierce." He turned to Barricade. "You as well. Nerollynix, the stereotype either good or bad. Military families, typical good. Officers and unfortunate families, typical bad. Nerollynix select for aggression, dominance, and follow well. Mix of trait end in powerful, powerful loyalty. And that what Generals want, no? I see though, other thing. You _doubt,_ you_ curious,_ you _adaptive._ I apologize what I mistaken, but you Protos too, no?" Barricade stared down at his hands. I turned my attention to him, for the most part wearing an impartial look. I would not explain to Maximum what was Barricade's to tell. That was up to the Officer. He heaved a great sigh, then looked Maximum in the eye. Something profound and unspoken passed between them. Then Barricade did something I had not witnessed before. He surrendered. Maximum had forced him to relinquish everything.

"Look, when I got back from the war, I wasn't a happy man. I didn't really understand why we were fighting, but I knew we'd lost. Friend of mine got me a job as an Officer, but it took eight months; eight months living off the street 'cause my folks died when some crack-head rigged a bar with an I.E.D. Bolted it under a table. Was gonna kill a rival dealer, but my parents just happened to get there first… Ahh, enough about them. So I know where you've been, Mirr. It's… hard, to get out… Look at me, I had a job and I still wasn't really any better off. Only it was worse for me, being what I am: a messed up war vet with a lot of pride and nowhere to go. So, naturally, I gravitated toward whatever the best source of food was. And, at that time, as I assume it still is now, that was bareknuckle boxing. The fight rings, wasted men yelling at their guy… yeah, I've been there. Didn't always end up on top either. You have to be careful, though. First lesson I learned was don't pick on the toughest guy. I was able to back out of that one nursing my pride. The next ones, not so much. Your first fight, you can bail, but after that they're assuming you can take it or you wouldn't have come back. Second rule I learned was that everybody drank. Fighters drank, spectators drank… only the refs were sober. Some fights, they wouldn't even let you in unless you'd had five, six beers and a shot or two. More fun to watch. I wasn't so keen on it at first, what with my past experiences and all, but I got overconfident. And hungry. And you already know what happens when I'm hungry, Mirr. You were—what was it, 25 pounds—underweight? Right now I weigh… roughly 150, maybe 160… Try half that. First time I went for the job they said I looked strong, but thin. I didn't know how thin 'til I stepped on the scale and the number 86 stared back at me. Guys asked me if I was anorexic or something. They seemed to catch on when I gained weight after I actually had a few decent meals. Captain knew what I'd been through, though. He'd ask me where the best places to raid were. Through all my connections, I knew where fights would be. We'd shoo them away and take the food. That was how it worked; our salaries went toward our habits. The third rule of the streets is pain. It's going to happen, and not the hunger kind either. This… This is nothing, Mirr. Three, four scratches and a bullet... That was basic on the streets. Guys got peppered with wounds. One fighter I met had six open wounds. He died the next day from a knife to the throat. One time a hyped-up spectator brought his revolver to one of my fights. He was betting on my opponent. I came to hours later all alone with three bullets in various places on my left side. One in the shoulder, almost where you got hit, one in my leg and the last one hit my ribs; good thing too, or I would've been dead. The reason I'm here and not still working, Mirr, is because the day before those creeps caught me, I was out with the rest of my 'colleagues', off duty. I woke up dazed the next day, hangover like you wouldn't believe. Apparently, some of the guys thought it was funny to leave me in the shipyard. Well, it wasn't, because _those_ people found me. My experience with them was probably nothing like yours was—I would assume they kidnapped you or something of the like—all they had to do to me was get me so wasted that I'd pass out. I wasn't going back to that… place… after that, so I headed west. I said it before and it hasn't changed; I'm not a happy person. When you're unhappy you're… prone… to falling into new habits or being unable to break old ones. You saw where it got me."

"You very lucky, Mirr. By nature, you is thinking fast, changing fast, finding new solutions to problem what change. Not everyone is doing that, you have good skill," advised Maximum. "Less likely you get in trouble; you back away first. That is you caution." I saw his point. Mentally, I was very agile and lightning fast. Had I ended up at a fight in Barricade's position, I would have withdrawn and reassessed the situation when the rules of alcoholic fights were explained. Then I probably would have left, or come up with a plan to appear to consume alcohol without actually doing it. I was a strategist where Barricade was a conformist. The Officer's grayed eyes drifted between myself and Maximum. The Ukrainian's gold ones followed Whiteback as he snuffled around the room, searching for God knows what; he's an opossum. I didn't even notice Ratbat's warning—probably because he didn't outright give one; I just felt what he felt: that someone was behind the door—but I unconsciously acted on it and glanced at the door. About a second later, Kiya came in with snacks. While Maximum, Barricade and I did not express hunger, Whiteback ambled over and nibbled on an apple slice, much to Kiya's delight.

The next day a storm blew in. It rumbled and howled and raged above us, threatening to crush us beneath its writhing mass. I couldn't explain it, but fear gnawed at my bones. Barricade's scratches seemed to be healing well, but unfortunately the bullet wound in his ankle required surgery to remove. An overpowering sense crawled into my chest and puffed itself up like a balloon. I felt slightly dizzy and couldn't stop squirming while Maximum and Barricade waited for one of Maximum's friends to arrive. Nowadays, cars were hard to come by, so Maximum took public transportation to work. However, Barricade was unable to stand on his own, so Maximum had asked a friend who had a car to drive them. At the point I could no longer stand it, I asked Maximum to take my symbionts with him. He seemed surprised, but agreed. He asked why I wanted them all to go. I informed him that Writhe was protection, Whiteback was a hacker and Ratbat could fly. Maximum said that it was unnecessary, and that Barricade would probably agree (I had spoken to Maximum alone because I knew I'd lose the argument with Barricade.) I said it would certainly calm me if they were to have the protection and input of my friends. Either out of kindness for me or a strong trust in my instincts or both, he gave in. I handed him the entire chell (the protective casing; Ratbat had told me what it was called) so that he could keep them in a more inconspicuous form. Symbionts would only shrink when entering a chell. As I let go of it, my companions issued a few scattered links of parting words. Ratbat told me not to worry, they'd be back very soon, Writhe left me a feeling of assuredness, and Whiteback promised to eat anyone who dared attack the men. Maximum placed the chell in his own pocket. I told him to let the symbionts out at the first sign of trouble. He promised me he would. Strangely enough, trouble would strike Kiya before anyone else.


	4. Chapter 3

I swear no shipping seriously because I know you shippers are going to be all over this starting next chapter ermergerd eww no Barri's like 10 years at LEAST older than Mirr haiiiil no besides I don't know anything about romance, couldn't write it if I wanted to.

NO F*CKING SHIPPING. PLEASE THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO WRITE STORIES EXCLUSIVELY TO SHIP GO READ ONE OF THEIRS FOR THAT SHIT.

Ahem. Continuing on.

Chapter 3

Kiya had been at the market buying vegetables when Maximum, his friend and Barricade left. I decided that I would go and meet her three blocks from here. It felt strange without any other voices speaking to me. I felt exposed and alone. I thought to where their links had been even though they wouldn't hear me; they were too far away. I met up with Kiya and we decided that we'd have to race the storm home. We never reached it. Because this storm had no rain. Three men appeared out of nowhere. They were unarmed, but angry. We took off. I told Kiya to go home; I'd lead them away. She said no, but I told her that I was used to this; I'd lost hundreds of tails. Finally she gave in and hid behind a garbage can as we rounded a corner. All that our pursuers saw was my retreating figure down the street. I'd been careful to make sure Kiya had rounded the corner first so that it seemed as if she was ahead of me. They bought it and followed me. I led them as far away from the house as my legs would allow. I reached an abandoned storage lot and climbed the fence and dropped onto the other side. They had closed the gap between us, so when I tripped over and old bike, they were almost touching me. I started to move again, but the shock from the fall had overloaded my senses and slowed me down. I felt a hard grip on my arm. I turned to face my pursuers, but couldn't react in time to avoid the well placed kick in my stomach. I flew backwards and hit my head on what might've once been an old filing cabinet. Before the vision faded, I felt a sharp stab of anger—no; fury—pass through me; it wasn't my own. It was as if a ghost had dived through my heart. I heard a man's cry of agony, then nothing.

I woke up hours later. The first thing I noticed was that there didn't seem to be anyone around; strange, where had they gone? I got to my feet and brushed the dust off of my clothes. The second thing I noticed was a very blunt and slightly agitated attitude registered in the back of my mind, like a dog you'd petted the wrong way. This description was more accurate than I'd known. A familiar face stepped out from behind a dumpster. His eyes were a grayish-green and his fur a cream color so light it seemed white. His muzzle was heavily scarred, as were his paws, and his tail was missing the tip. He wore a chain collar, and war tags dangled from them, taped together to keep them from jingling as he walked. Though his fur was heavily matted, I sensed dignity behind his eyes. The white canine moved toward me, not quite cautiously, but in a wary manner. His eyes glittered in the gray light filtering through the clouds above.

"Carrier?" he growled knowingly. I nodded.

"Symbiont?"

"Well I suppose that's a little obvious now, isn't it. What is it with young ones and trouble? Since Cole and Gauge died I haven't been able to find one carrier that can keep themselves under control. You're no different. Look at you, hanging around with a man like him…" I was confused by the last remark. I knew I was reckless, but who was he talking about?

"Pardon…? I don't follow…" The wolfish head dipped in exasperation.

"The Officer, Barricade. You start hanging around characters like him and you're asking for trouble."

"How do you know his name?"

"Hmph, I've known him a long while now; since he was a kid in fact. I lived near his friends' favorite playground; they were all terrified of me. An older boy saw me once, and the rumor began. Cole didn't mind it; it kept things quiet. Gauge thought it was funny."

"Pardon my asking, but who are…?"

"Cole and Gauge? My carrier and my brother. Cole died a while ago. He liked your friend Barricade. Said he had a lot of heart. Cole was like that though, always favored the spirited. I respected Barricade too, up 'til he downed his first bottle. He was different as a kid you know, a bit of a joker. That changed because he changed. Cole didn't see it. He was long dead, curse the gangs. Gauge made it a little farther, but he wasn't fast enough. Black Tag got him in the leg then the head. Our father was the same; a symbiont wolf, but his mother was a mutt, mine a White Shepherd. Gauge was shorter, stockier and slower than me. Nothing I could've done."

"Wait, so he's your… half-brother…? And who's Black Tag?"

"It isn't a who, it's a what. Black Tag is an organization that has it out for carriers. Don't quite believe them to be a 'worthy breed.' Insane if you ask me. You know 'em."

"Yeah, if they are who I think they are."

"I wasn't a question. Those three that were after you; they were Taggers." My mind went a little numb.

"What about the other woman?"

"She got away. You're quite selfless for one your age, girl. Concerned with everybody. You'll get in over your head sooner or later."

"I'm already in over my head." He gave a snort.

"Don't say I didn't warn you about being too selfless though; especially in these times. The Taggers are everywhere. The name's Alabaster, like the color. It's not really a pleasure or not meeting you. Like I said, you're same as the others. I assume Maximum explained about my other owner. I lived with a friend of Cole's for two years, but he was into alcohol too, and he got shot. Been a while now... twelve years? Thirteen? Tag's prowling around here, so I have to be careful. Black Tag wants Barricade too; thought you should know. They ought not to send drunks after him though, it's easy as hell to scare them away. You remember me from that night? Bit the guy's hand? Hmph, well that guy was hired by Black Tag. They want Barricade gone. He doesn't know it, but a few of his old war buddies are with Tag. They know he deserted and they want payback." My blood froze in my veins. I directed my attention to the symbionts' links. I couldn't talk to them when they were this far away, but I could sense their emotions. I got nothing, but when I searched for prior warnings, there it was. While I had been unconscious, all three of them had screamed an alert to me. I had been right to be worried.

"Aww No! No-no-no-no-no-no-no!" I paced back and forth, trying not to panic. Alabaster simply licked a paw absentmindedly. I thought about asking for his help, but from what he'd said, I assumed that he wanted nothing to do with me. I walked hurriedly to the gate and climbed over it. To my surprise, the white Wolfdog followed me.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

"To help my friends! They're in trouble!"

"How're you going to do that?"

"I'll plan it as I go!" The aging canine climbed the fence with surprising skill.

"You don't seriously think you can do anything on your own?!" I said nothing and kept running. "Then let me come with you!" I stopped.

"_What_!?" I certainly hadn't thought he'd just volunteer to help like that, especially after his soap box speech about how reckless and inexperienced I was. He trotted up to me.

"Well you don't expect me to let a reckless, inexperienced carrier go it alone, do you?" I stared at him. "Here, link with me." He brushed his head up against my right hand. A symbiont can only be linked to one carrier at a time, and that link is formed mentally. However, physical contact must be present for it to be initiated. I reached out in my mind and found Alabaster's powerful presence waiting for me. I felt his mind merge with my own. The link was formed. Only now did I detect the loneliness that ate at the symbiont's mind. He masked it well physically. He knew I'd found it. _ I miss my brother…_ he thought softly. _It's been years since I've talked to anyone; longer since I've had a real conversation. The other man I stayed with didn't know what I was. He treated me like any human treats a dog. It's nice to be able to speak again._ I replied with a sense of welcoming and scratched his ears.

_We need to get a ride to the hospital; that's where they went. _

_With Barricade, I assume. _

_Yes, Maximum's friend drove them. _

_Then what?_

_We follow the trail. I'll be able to show you where the others were when they sent me an alarm. I can sense it._

_What about me? They won't let me in._

_I can say you're my assist dog._

_Clever._

_Okay, first priority is a ride. How do we-?_ The symbiont was padding off in the direction of an old auto shop. I followed him.

_Ask the storeowner how much it is for a ride. Say I'll sit in the back of his pickup._ I sent him mixed feelings of acknowledgement and mistrust of the owner. He replied with a sense of security. I knew what it meant: _I will protect you._ I smiled warmly to myself. Carriers and symbionts were very closely linked in spirit; I always knew I could rely on the animals. I spoke to the owner of the shop, paid him thirty dollars, and sat in the passenger seat while he let Alabaster jump into the back. I was only happy once the drive was over.

I gripped Alabaster's collar in my right hand as I walked slowly into the E.R.; the place from which all the warning signals emanated. The symbiont and I moved in perfect sync, our link allowing us to understand and predict each other's movements. We skirted the edge of the room. I felt around for the chair and tried not to turn my head to look at anything. I just stared straight ahead into space. Alabaster was seeing for me. We waited for about five minutes before a man asked me to take my dog outside. I said he was a guide dog, but he didn't seem to care.

_I have their scent._ Perfect timing. I got up, still staring into space. We slowly moved toward the door, then as soon as the man walked away, I for the most part dropped the act and speed-walked to the entrance where Alabaster indicated the scent trail began. Then we slipped through it and the white dog began following the scent. A few men stared, but for the most part, people were occupied. Only when someone said, 'hey!' did I know we'd have to run. I let go of Alabaster's collar and willed him to run the trail ahead of me and bolted after him. A few more people yelled, but no-one chased us; they were too busy. We went all the way to the elevator, which was locked. I had never hacked computers before, only nervous systems.

_No time like the present to learn_, I thought. Alabaster instructed me on how to do it. I pressed my fingers to the panel and the dog guided me through the system to the release. The light above us blinked on, and we slipped in. The door closed just as two Officers rounded a corner. They didn't see us. Alabaster nosed over the buttons, searching for a scent present in the trail he was following. When he found it, I felt as though someone had poured ice water over my heart. The Morgue. I shakily pressed it. The elevator crawled downwards. The dog at my side rubbed his head against my hand. No words or feelings needed to be shared. He knew mine, I knew his. The door slid open. We stepped out. I hated the place instantly. It smelled like a sick cocktail of formaldehyde and cleaning sprays. I felt a shudder of foreboding pass through me. I knew they were here. Alabaster did too.

There were really only two options at this point. We could go to them or they could come to us; 'they' being Black Tag. I wasn't a brute force fighter, so I disliked the second option; it would draw them all to us. We went with the first one. The room had been cleaned with exact precision—even the air was sprayed down with powerful aerosol—so Alabaster could find no scent, but I didn't need one anymore. I closed my eyes and found the most active link I could. It was Writhe's. I almost didn't want to connect to it because it blistered with searing pain. But I forced myself to do it anyway because it was the only lead we had. I followed the pain as it grew more and more pronounced. Each time the pain increased, I drew closer to my friends, I reminded myself. I crept down a hallway, Alabaster beside me. I gripped a door handle in the direction of the pain and sent Alabaster a warning question. He replied that he was ready and I threw the door open. Chaos ensued.

There were three guards inside the room. Alabaster tackled the first one and I dodged gunfire from the second and third. I waited until they were distracted with Alabaster, then darted out from my cover, vaulted over a table and grabbed the region of flesh between the second guard's neck and shoulder, a pressure point. I hacked his nervous system and sent a message to his brain signaling sensory overload and he passed out. The third got run over by my furry companion and pinned to the floor. He'd wet his pants. Fear glistened in his eyes as he stared at Alabaster's bloody muzzle. I realized that the Wolfdog had killed the other man. I said nothing now, it wasn't the time. Better that they think us more ruthless for the moment. I loomed menacingly over him.

"Where are they?" It wasn't a question. My voice dripped with malice and protective fury. "How many others are down here?" The guard shook. Alabaster growled. I took into account that the less human I seemed, the more Black Tag would hate me, and therefore feel that they were justified in their actions against my kind. But because Alabaster had killed the other guard, I didn't think we were scoring any points with this one. He didn't look like he was going to talk. "You tell me or I can just pry and find the answer." He shuddered, but did not speak. Though I disliked the idea, I knew prying was the only way to obtain completely accurate information. Alabaster knew it too. I gave him the all clear. He closed his jaws firmly over the man's neck and I felt myself dragged into his consciousness.

A mind is a free for all when it's panicked. I didn't know where to start. Alabaster did though. I felt his presence gently pushing me along through the waves of input.

_We need to form a Command Link to better search. You have to briefly connect to his mind and force what we need forward. Then I'll get it._ I let him know that I'd understood and reached out and gripped the man's consciousness. He did not resist, only cowered in fear. I hated how he viewed me, but there was little I could do about that now. I felt him relinquish the information I wanted and I withdrew once I sensed Alabaster had acquired it. The soldier had given it up to us in fear. I preferred this to a mental tug of war that would leave the looser (namely him) with a splitting headache. I shared this information with the soldier just before I gave the command for him to pass out and Alabaster released the man's throat from his jaws. Hopefully he'd understood I only wanted to protect my friends.

The two of us hurried down the hall. I had been dismayed to learn from the soldier's memories that there had been three other carriers here, but they had been cremated. I didn't know whether they'd been conscious, and I didn't really want to. Hopefully my friends were still alive. We had also taken the soldier's mental knowledge of the floor plan of place and put it to use. We reached a cellblock door and I tried it. Locked. I pulled a small, thin object out of my pocket, stuffed it in the lock and turned the blue ring on the end twice, taking pleasure in the grating sound it made. There was a sharp pop and all the metal retracted into the door. The object was a highly concentrated magnet that I could turn on and off. It doubled as a pocketknife and was designed to be thrust into locks and activated. Currently, I had magnetized it to the wedge in the door that held it shut. I thrust the door open, pulling out my tool at the same time. The door led to a room with more doors, one of which contained my friends. The guards' faces upon seeing me were priceless.

I don't know what my friends thought when they heard my voice, fearless and saturated with fury, scream "_Sick 'em!_". They probably didn't even know it was me, especially because they couldn't hear my mind whisper to Alabaster, _don't kill them._ The dog downed both men and I put them unconscious. Barricade's expression was one for the books, confused and shocked all at once; he was the first to see me through the window in the door. I flashed him a grin, then, while using the magnet on the makeshift cell door, instructed that Alabaster stay on watch at the entrance. The door slid open and I put the magnet away. Maximum and his friend had helped Barricade up, but they both wore grim expressions. Barricade's surprise had faded and he wore the worst expression of them all. He also wore what, to anyone else, would've looked like a striped belt draped over his shoulders like a scarf. But once they'd moved out into the hall, I recognized Writhe. I didn't know what to say. The Officer's eyes rose to meet mine.

"Mirr… I'm sorry… I couldn't stop them…" Maximum took Writhe's limp form off of Barricade's shoulders and held the snake out to me. "Max says he's still alive, but…"

"I suspect that he in coma, Mirr. He still breathing, but nervous system not responding," murmured Maximum apologetically. Barricade's lip curled.

"They hit him with a broom handle when he wouldn't let them touch us," the Officer growled. As I took Writhe's limp form from Maximum's outstretched hands, I saw the bruise on the snake's neck. I wanted to scream. I did scream—in my head. I found where his link used to be and threw myself at it and howled louder than Alabaster ever could. I'd heard of carriers breaking comas, but I knew somewhere deep down that I wasn't skilled enough to do it. I might not ever be. I didn't register the hot liquid on my face; it burned in too much fury and pain to feel the tears. I would not have been surprised had the drops evaporated upon contact with my skin. I composed myself and placed Writhe carefully around my neck. I stroked the base of his head and felt the snake's life force beneath my fingers. I could finish it here. End his suffering. But when I felt his life force, still strong and vibrant however faint… I couldn't do it. Not to one of my own.

"Where are the others?" Maximum's friend shook his head.

"They're keeping symbionts elsewhere." I felt for Ratbat and Whiteback's links. I found them. They weren't far. A nudge from the Alabaster brought me back to reality.

_Tag will be here soon. I can follow your other symbionts' presences if you allow me to access their links._

_Go ahead. Do it._ I let him into my head.

_Good. Follow me._ We all fell into step behind the canine.

"New friend?" asked Barricade.

"Nope, an old one. Yours to be precise."

"What?" Maximum's friend, particularly stronger than the nurse and also an obvious war vet, was carrying Barricade. He didn't seem to care at this point.

"Remember when you told me about Rimmyr? This is one of his dogs."

"Rimmyr? I didn't think he actually existed."

"Well he did; his name was Cole and he had two Wolfdog symbionts; half-brothers. One's dead, this is the other. His name is Alabaster."

"Makes sense."

"Cut the chatter Mirr, I found them," growled the symbiont in question. He indicated toward a large steel door. Maximum's friend swore. I slowly stepped up to the cold metal door. It was unlike any I'd ever seen. It had no handles, only five indentations, one below and to the left of the others. "It's a carrier's door," murmured Alabaster. "Whoever else is with him, I guarantee that there is a carrier back there. Are you ready? Others of your kind fight much differently than you've seen." I nodded. "Put your fingers against the receptors and tell it to open through a Command Link." I fitted my fingers into the divots and thought to the door: _Open. Obey. __**Obey. OBEY!**_ It took a moment, but there was a low clunking noise, and the metal came away from my hands and slid backwards and to my left. The room was graphitized and a body lay below the writing. There would be no fight. That much was clear.

Maximum's friend had put Barricade down. I hadn't noticed. A hawk lay at the side of the room. A bullet had pierced its skull. A half-domestic-half-wild cat lay motionless, trickling blood. A large raven gasped under a cage, head at an awkward angle. Their carrier's body was sprawled across the ground. It was nearly unidentifiable, but I realized that the uniform and hawk were the same as the carrier that had shot me. The reason he was so unrecognizable was that he was missing his head. The message on the wall in black paint was unnecessary.

THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING

WE ARE COMING

A small meeping noise alerted me to a familiar figure in an upside-down cage.

"Whiteback!" I darted over to the twisted metal and pulled the door open.

"Mirr… You're back…" he mumbled. I squeezed him.

"Where's Ratbat?"

"There." He pointed over to another set of cages. Ratbat was free, but clawing at another cage. It contained a large panther. I went over to him.

"Who's this?" Ratbat looked up.

"Ravage, another of Soundwave's symbionts; Mirr, he thinks he knows where Soundwave is!" I tore at the cage and agitated the metal with my magnet. "…Who's…?" Ratbat said slowly, indicating at the massive dog watching me.

"Alabaster, an old friend of Barricade's." I knew what my friend would ask next. I was so pained with Writhe's condition that part of me needed Ratbat's company, but I'd known this time would come. And I had long ago decided that Ratbat's bond with Soundwave would far exceed the one he'd formed with me. "…you can go with Ravage. I… I'll miss you, Ratbat. You've been a real great friend, you remember that…" The small symbiont fluttered onto my shoulder.

"What… what's with…"

"I don't think he'll be waking, Ratbat," I said grimly of Writhe. "Not anytime soon at least." I felt Ratbat's furry head rub against my chin one more time as I finally pried the cage door open. Ravage leapt out, stretching.

"He will… You know him, and I know you… I… I can't thank you enough Mirr… For everything…" the little bat said. "You didn't have to help me…"

"Ratbat I help everyone; you know that," I smiled. "And thank you. For showing me what I was… and what I could be." Ravage padded towards the door and motioned with his tail for the bat to follow. I stroked Ratbat's head and bid him farewell in my mind. He leapt off my shoulder and I felt his fur brush my jaw. Then, very quickly and painlessly, the symbiont severed his bond with me. An intense feeling of loneliness filled me. Whiteback brushed the back of my neck in comforting. Ravage fixed me with a deep stare, green eyes glowing. Ratbat landed between his shoulders. Then, in a flash of dark, he was gone. I then went over to the raven at the edge of the room. I recognized him. He was Kyre.

I crouched in front of the raven, tapping the floor to get his attention. His eyes opened; they were dull and pained. I sensed muddled thoughts as I formed a link with him; once a symbiont's carrier dies, their mind is free to link to any carrier. If not, they must forcefully sever their previous contact, as Ratbat had done. I felt the harsh pain radiating from various points in his body.

_Hey Kyre… Been a while I guess…_ The raven responded aloud.

"Rei… Reina… You're… so much taller… You cut your hair…" he wheezed. I ran a finger down his back, releasing the nervous tension momentarily. The bird shuddered in relief. He knew it wouldn't last long, but it was comfort. "You… remember me…?"

"Yes. You said I needed to learn to run… You were right." In a flash of thoughts I shared my memories with him. I felt him smile mentally.

"Grown… so much more than we thought… We… thought… you'd… died… Sandstriker didn't… recognize you… sorry for… your arm…" I nodded. Sandstriker; so that was his name. But how had he known me? "When… you were young… tutored… by… same person… as him… Sorry… he was sorry… to us… get us involved… He thought… joining Black Tag was… only way… to stay safe… They promised… we'd all be… safe… He thought… we hated him… for it… We didn't hate him… He never knew… we didn't hhhhhhate… him…"

"I'm sorry Kyre..."

"Reina… help me… please… my son… Glint… Take… him… with you…"

"My name is Mirr; I changed it. Your son; where is he?"

"Mirr… Better name… much better… Glint… still in chell… Sandstriker's… front left pocket…" I stroked him again and he sighed.

"I promise I'll look after him."

"Free… me…" I felt a rush of fear and uncertainty course through me.

"I… I couldn't do that…"

"Please… Pain… end… now…" Whiteback waddled over to the raven's side. He sniffed him and tapped various points in the bird's spine.

"Mirr… his neck is fractured and his spine is broken in various places… There's no way…"

"I know… I just… I-I can't…"

"Mirr, do it. It's what's best… He doesn't want to suffer," instructed Alabaster. The white dog had remained at Maximum's side, and they had not entered the room, but he knew exactly what was going on. I screwed my eyes shut for a moment, then, voice cracking, I whispered, "Okay. Okay. I will. I will. I… I'm sorry Kyre… that it ended like this for you…"

"Not… concerned… My life… lived… Glint's… new… Take him… take him with you…" I nodded. This time I did feel the tears on my face. I placed my thumb and index finger on either side of the place where Kyre's skull met his neck. I squeezed the bone gently and willed his nerves to cease registering pain. Then I reached farther and found the fragile, fluttering heartbeat. I closed my mind around the nerve signal for it to beat and slowly smothered it. Kyre's heart grew still. The soft, feathered body relaxed. "Thank you…" he breathed. Anyone who was there would've claimed that those were his last words. But they weren't. In my head, his tired voice whispered, _You didn't learn to run, Mirr… You learned to fly… I'm proud… to have known you… for however short a time…_ His mental link darkened like Writhe's, only then it shrank. It continued to do so until it simply vanished from my mind. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. The Black Eagle was dead.

I was reluctant to approach Sandstriker's corpse, especially due to the fact that his head was gone. But I did for the sake of the symbiont I knew was still confined to his place in the chell. I carefully reached into the carrier's pocket and drew out not one chell but two. The second was mine. He must've taken it from Maximum. Within the first, a tiny black bird held very still. I tapped on the casing.

"Please come out… I won't hurt you." Unsurprisingly, he remained. "Glint…" In a flash of dark feathers, the raven hopped out and onto the floor, panic in his eyes. Whiteback and I moved to give chase, but a powerful mental note stopped us.

_Let me._ Alabaster moved slowly forward toward the fearful symbiont. In a flash he had his right paw on Glint's tail feathers. I was worried for a moment, but then the Wolfdog placed his left paw in front of the raven's chest, and his muzzle over the bird's back. He walked his hind legs forward until he had laid down, head and forepaws closed around Glint. He murmured something that I couldn't hear to the bird, who replied at a similar volume. It took me a moment, but then I realized that Alabaster had embraced the young bird in a very crude hug. The Wolfdog was speaking almost rhythmically now, and I realized that he was repeating the same two words: "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" The rest of the conversation was too quiet for me to hear, and I think that was the point. Finally, the white canine released his hold on the raven. The black bird looked over toward his father's body, then back at me. I lowered myself to my knees and looked him in the eye. Glint seemed reluctant and dragged his feet, but he approached me. He stared at the floor.

"…hi…" It was barely more than a whisper.

"Hi," I echoed softly. "Glint, is it?"

"Mmm hmm…"

"I'm Mirr. Are you okay; anything hurt?"

"…no." I felt a pang of guilt.

"…besides on the inside… right? Look, I would say I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that in a way that could ever come close to being enough to make you feel any better. I… I don't really know what it's like… for everything you know to just be… gone. I can only tell you what it feels like to leave everything you know behind. And, tell you what, it really sucks, even if you don't like what you're leaving behind. I didn't. But you do. And you didn't choose this. I can't even imagine… what it's like for you right now… If you don't want to come with me, at least let me take you outside. Okay?" I held out my arm to the bird. He hesitated. Then slowly, very slowly, he lifted his feet onto my wrist. I lifted up my hand and stood up. Maximum and his friend were waiting. Maximum was nodding. He might not be a carrier, but he knew what I was thinking.

"I will tell the staff to cremate them." I nodded to him. "And I will find the ones who did this. Who abused this place."

"…you won't. They left." I turned to the raven. "They were our superiors. They brought us here a few days ago to guard the captive symbionts. Then they came back today and… that happened." Maximum's friend seemed curious.

"Who were they?"

"Arbado and Gilwin." Barricade flinched as if he'd been hit by a small stone.

"What?!" I remembered what Alabaster had told me.

_Those must be Barricade's old friends_, I thought to Whiteback. In response to his confusion, I shared the day's memories with him.

"If that really was them, then why am I here? They were my comrades in arms," the Officer said to the other men. Alabaster indicated that I answer.

"Because you deserted. Alabaster told me about them."

"That doesn't make any sense! As if by being at that last battle I would've won us the war!" he sneered sarcastically. "They left me for dead; them and everyone else. What self-respecting soldier would return to a bunch of backstabbing bastards like them!?" But something had occurred to me.

"You're right; what kind of soldier _would_ come back? Barricade, you said at the time when you deserted, you all knew that the war was pretty much lost, right?"

"Yeah… What are you getting at…?"

"So, a soldier that they left for dead fighting a losing battle just _happens_ to end up as an Officer after the war; paid with a _government _salary."

"I told you, a friend got me the job."

"No, no, I believe you… but what would an outside observer think? Remember, you were on the side _against _this government. Let's see. You had a reason to hate them, you had nowhere to go and the war was lost…" I watched my words sink in.

"So wait, you're saying… …that they think I_ turned traitor!?_" he snarled viciously. I felt fear rise in my throat. I hadn't seen Barricade like this before, and it terrified me. He was furious; his forehead and the bridge of his nose wrinkled and a cold fire burned in his eyes. He reminded me too much of other Officers, drunk and unpredictable, roaring at me for walking down and alley or trying to avoid them. They hadn't ever hurt me, I'd been too quick and too smart for that, but the damage was done. I had a powerful fear of adults, particularly males in uniform, screaming. I took a few steps back. Barricade seemed to realize he'd intimidated me. The anger faded from his face. I noticed I'd lowered my head and brought my right arm closer against my side. I slowly relaxed my neck and shoulders. Barricade looked worried and a little guilty, Maximum's friend seemed fascinated and the nurse himself was, as always, knowing and indifferent. Though I didn't necessarily fear Barricade, I couldn't remove the instinctive wariness from my eyes. He knew he'd bothered me. "I… uh," he hopped backwards, still not standing on his injured leg, "…didn't mean to scare you… What exactly… did you think I was going to do?" I didn't know. I shrugged. "Look, you know me... I'm a drunk with no life and a bullet in my leg. Hell, you could probably take me here and now. Why…?" Usually, I remained composed, even when fearful. Now though, after finding out about Writhe, loosing Ratbat and taking Kyre's life, my emotions had reached a breaking point. I dropped to my knees and hugged Alabaster, who, at first surprised, rested his jaw on my shoulder in comfort. I buried my face in his cream-colored fur.

_Why's everything gotta be so painful?_

_I suppose it's because life doesn't have any feelings._

_Well it should get some!_

_Calm down, you're in hysterics; everyone's staring at you._

_I don't care! _

_My God Mirr, what's happened to you? You're a genius and mature young woman one moment, and now you're acting like a child!_

_Uh, let's see, one of my charges is in a coma, I had to part with a friend, I just saw a murder scene, had to mercy kill someone I really would've liked to talk to and I have a ridiculous and humiliating fear of adults—particularly men—in uniform screaming at me! __**Now do you know what's happened!?**_ The Wolfdog licked my ear.

_Then let's act on the problems. There must be a way to wake Writhe. If you can't do it, we'll find someone who can. But we can't do that unless you work with us. We all endure. I did it for twelve years. If I can do it alone for that long then God knows how long you'll be able to do it with friends like Whiteback, Maximum and his sister… and Barricade too, I suppose. _He lifted his head. _Come on, let's get out of here. Then you can come up with a proper plan. _

_I feel like I've failed as a carrier; I'm supposed to protect you all, be there for you… Now I've lost it, just like that… _

_And do you think there's a carrier out there that hasn't broken once in their life? You're new at this; it's been how long since you first found out what you were?_

_Four months._

_Exactly! And we're here for you too. We take it upon ourselves to be strong for our carrier, not their burden. It works both ways. I'm here, Whiteback's here… We're here when you need us. _

_I… I don't know how to thank you, Alabaster…_

_Start by getting us out of here._ I gave the Wolfdog one last squeeze, then got to my feet. Maximum wore and expression of mild concern, his friend was shifting uncomfortably and Barricade looked like he felt somewhere between guilty and mortified. I looked at the floor.

"…sorry…" Maximum was the only one who didn't seem surprised that I was apologizing for crying. Barricade looked even more guilty and confused.

"I just… You didn't think I would hurt you… did you?" the Officer asked anxiously.

"I don't know what I thought." Maximum made a slight 'ahem' noise.

"We going now?" I nodded. Barricade gave me an apologetic look, but that only made _me_ feel guilty. Alabaster made for the front of the group and I followed him. Whiteback asked me if I was okay from within his chell. It took me a moment to realize that Glint wasn't with me, but I heard a soft whoosh and his clawed feet fell onto my shoulder. We returned to the Morgue, went up the elevator and into a crowd of armed Officers. And Maximum revealed his hidden talent. Manipulation.


	5. Chapter 4

NO SHIPPING GODDAMIT ESPECIALLY NOT BARRIMIRR FUCK OFF TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

Coughs loudly BACK TO THE DAMN STORY.

Chapter 4

The older man stepped forward and glanced absentmindedly at the faces before him. He could see the tension in some, the slack fury of alcohol in others. He knew from their expressions and appearances that they all drank heavily. Except one. The youngest of the bunch was barely older than me. He had reddish-brown hair and eyes a bright mixture of blue and green. He was new, I saw the nurse observe. New to everything. And unsure. Unsure of his behavior on or off duty. He drank, but not to the extent of the others and he fretted about it. I cast a glance between him and Barricade.

_Did Barricade ever feel like that? Confused? I know I sure have. Just not about the same things._ The Wolfdog knew that that phrase was somewhat innocently cast off in his direction. He answered.

_No. Barricade was for the most part fearless from a young age. He… didn't get along with his father. More alcohol there. He'd steal his father's beer and vodka and pitch it over the fence near where Cole, Gauge and I lived. He started a rumor that drunks went in that area to get wasted. His father cared about him—God, what that man must've felt—but Barricade didn't want anything to do with him. When he got back from the war, he'd… hardened… And he told you about the street fighting, I assume? Even before he became an Officer he was lost. Not physically, you know… spiritually. I don't know if he was ever really there in the first place. Cole saw it, but I never could._ Maximum had continued to stare at the younger Officer for a full five minutes now. The young man was starting to feel pressured.

"…what your name?" The man made no move to answer. Another Officer shouted "hands up!" but clearly didn't care, swaying slightly. The man standing directly next to that one urinated in his pants. I shot another sidelong glance at Barricade. He seemed somewhat mesmerized by the scene before us. I wondered if it made him think of his past. "Boy, someone older what you ask you question, you answer. What your name; how old you?"

"I… I'm Officer Coldby, sir… I'm twenty."

"You short for your age."

"Sorry sir…?"

"Nerollynix around six foot three inches your age. How tall are you?"

"I'm… five-eleven and a half… sir…"

"See, you short."

"Sir, I don't think…"

"I not finished yet. You have a girlfriend? You dating?"

"N…no… sir…" said a very confused Officer Coldby. I was actually beginning to enjoy watching this.

"Why not? You want right?"

"…Well yeah…"

"Then why you not trying to get one?" I suppressed the urge to giggle maniacally at the poor soul's misfortune. A few of the other Officers were watching in minor amusement as well.

"I uh… well…"

"Don't tell me 'uh, well…' You a man, no?" Officer Coldby stared at Maximum.

"_What?_" Maximum waved it away.

"It no matter. You just now get job, you still finding out what doing." Officer Coldby looked suspicious. Maximum proceeded to ask the man several other random questions, but it was only after that that Maximum put his true power into effect. "Now you move; I need take patients to waiting room." He stepped toward the Officers. They looked at him, thunderstruck.

"Hey, stop right there," slurred one over the sound of one of his fellows vomiting. Maximum didn't sigh, didn't yell; he straightened his posture and masked his emotions. He had mastered the face that Barricade still had yet to properly accomplish.

"I take these patients to waiting room," he repeated.

"What were you doing in the Morgue?"

"If you need know, Officer Coldby, girl has mental disorder and wander off. She is schizophrenic; she think she seeing something. Dog is therapy dog. Other patient see her leave and follow her. He worried she get in trouble." Here he gestured at Barricade, who snapped out of his daydream.

"So a man with a lame leg follows a crazy teenager into a Morgue? Unlikely."

"'scuze me sir, if you don't mind me butting in," Barricade said curtly, "but I don't have a lame leg, I have an infection in my ankle. And I didn't want the kid getting into trouble with some of the equipment that they've got down there… I'm an ex-soldier, I get nosy."

"And this guy?" another Officer said, gesturing at Maximum's friend.

"Shockwave work what scientist here. He send what me because he see strange person in Morgue. Now, please, I need take patients next room." The way he looked at Coldby showed an aloof disappointment; his earlier questions made sense now. Coldby was under the impression that Maximum understood every aspect of his life, which honestly seemed quite possible, knowing Maximum. Coldby let us pass in his shame. The other Officers just stared after us. I heard one fall over as I followed my party. I was glad that Glint and Whiteback had had the sense to retreat to their chells before we'd reached the main floor. Alabaster padded along calmly beside me, acting like the therapy dog he had impersonated. Maximum muttered something to Shockwave, then turned and hissed to me, "Go sit with Shockwave in car. I handle rest." He helped Barricade off toward the E.R. I obediently followed the tall, light-haired man out into the parking lot.

Shockwave, though clearly also ex-military, was, like Barricade, not a purebred Nerollynix. I could see it in his slimmer shoulders, longer limbs and dark eyes—they were almost black. Agili. His hair was normal for his kind, pale and thin. His ears narrowed and peaked at the top and his face was thin and angular. I got the feeling that he could outrun me in an instant. Which was, mind you, what he was born to do. Agili were runners. They were fast, maneuverable and wickedly devious. Shockwave unlocked the car. I sat in the back and Alabaster leapt over the back seat into the trunk; the car was a hatchback. Shockwave settled himself in the driver's seat, closed the door and twisted his head around so that he could get a better look at me.

"So," he said, "_you_ are Maximum's little charity case. You're very lucky." I said nothing. I didn't know how to respond. Shockwave continued. "You don't look like much. But looks can be deceiving, can't they?" I nodded. Shockwave unnerved me a little. The way he spoke was smooth and almost silky. It gave me the impression that he was a man used to keeping a lot of secrets, and keeping them well. "If you don't mind my asking," his tone sharpened a little; good thing too, now at least he sounded a bit more normal, "where are you from?" I didn't care that he asked. I wasn't really sure where I would go now that I'd completed my mission, but back to my hometown was definitely _not_ an option.

"I'm from Lininburg. Nowhere special." Shockwave nodded.

"Nowhere special, hmmm? That happens to have been the headquarters for the underground laboratory running the illegal experiments on human breeds."

"So?"

"Does your right fourth finger have any scars on it?" I turned my hand palm-up. It did, but there were plenty of incidents in my past that would allow for scarring.

"What of it if it does?" Shockwave raised an eyebrow.

"Describe the shape."

"Of the scar?"

"What else?"

"It's a line."

"Are there several?" I stiffened. He couldn't see my hand from where he was sitting, but somehow I realized that he knew exactly what the mark on my finger looked like. "There's one that runs diagonally across your fingertip and two others, parallel to each other that intersect it, correct?" I nodded. "You still think you're from nowhere special? The organization that was experimenting with breeds marked the fingers of its subjects." He stretched his right hand around the seat and opened it so that I could see the mark on his palm. "Meet your maker." I looked between him and his hand and he laughed quietly. "I worked with that organization for a while. They marked their scientists too. I left at the end of the war to help on the battlefield. I was badly injured toward the end and we'd lost the battle. The government's soldiers were searching for any of their men that had survived. Maximum was a field medic. Even though I was his enemy, he pitied me. He did something really risky helping me. He knew his team wouldn't let him help the enemy, so he switched my uniform with that of a dead government soldier. After I'd recovered, he and I became friends. We eventually found jobs; I was working at a lab not far from here, and he became a nurse. However, the project I was working for went broke and I became unemployed. Maximum managed to pull a few strings here and there and got me into one of the research departments. I suppose you could say that, in a way, I am a charity case as well. Who would've thought?" He chuckled. I shuddered. His laugh unnerved me. "Though I burned all of my records, I still remember you; you were the last one. Nero/Psychus cross, am I correct? Yes, you were a strange one. That carrier, the dead one, was a member of the organization too. I didn't know him well, but I'd seen him a few times. His bird took a liking to you. Do you remember any of that? You used to escape from your room, one of my old friends who worked there for a while longer told me. God knows how, but you did it. I presume you continue to be a great escapist?"

"With the help of my friends." Shockwave nodded.

"Your father was too." My blood ran cold. "I knew who the subjects were who provided the DNA samples; we refer to them as parents. They never met each other, though both of them certainly had reputations. I can tell you about them if you like." I wasn't sure how I liked that idea. I decided that I'd rather carry on in life and make my own decisions without worrying what my 'parents' would've done. It was a tempting offer, but I knew I couldn't un-hear any of it once it was said.

"I'd prefer to remain in the dark regarding the donors." Shockwave seemed surprised, but made no comment. We sat quietly for another three hours, then Shockwave's phone buzzed. It was Maximum; he'd convinced the other doctors and nurses to let him take Barricade back to the house with him. Shockwave was about to say something, but I reacted faster. I rolled over the back seat and curled up against the side of the car and the back of the seats. Alabaster understood as well; he placed his paws on the slight rise where the wheel well was next to the window and stood over me, blocking me from view. "I'm officially invisible to anyone looking in the right window," I informed Shockwave.

"Clever girl. Now stay that way." He put the car in drive and cruised over to the outpatient section. Maximum helped Barricade into the front seat and climbed into the back. The current on-duty nurse got a dramatic welcome from Alabaster, who barked loudly at him a few times. The strategy worked; all the man saw was the massive white dog, not the teenager hiding beneath the furry behemoth. We drove away and Maximum leaned over the seat. Alabaster laid down next to me and I wound my fingers around his rusty chain collar.

"You hide good. Everything okay?"

"Yes sir, I'm fine. Just completely exhausted."

"Youdon'… know tired… 'les you been me…" Barricade growled from the front seat. His words slurred together and were barely understandable. Maximum informed me that the anesthesia still hadn't worn off. Barricade fell asleep shortly after that. None of us were surprised. I desperately wanted to follow his example, but my old habits were hard to fight; I didn't sleep unless I was somewhere I felt safe. And I tried not to sleep around other people anyway. Alabaster finally surrendered and allowed himself to be placed in a chell along with Glint and Whiteback. Alabaster particularly disliked chells because of the shrinking required to enter one. The larger a symbiont was, the more they had to shrink and it often became uncomfortable for creatures over 20 pounds. But the car jostled around whenever we hit bumps (which, when we passed through the three old warzones between the hospital and Maximum's house, composed about 85% of the road), so he figured he could sleep easier in my pocket. I had climbed over the back seat and was sitting next to Maximum. We weren't worried about me being seen now.

When we pulled up outside the house, Kiya came sprinting out to us and nearly crushed me in a hug. I just sort of stood there awkwardly. Glint was a little confused, so I promised to introduce him to Kiya in the morning. I mentally woke Alabaster and confirmed to Kiya that he didn't have fleas; symbionts were immune to the various parasites and diseases that plagued other animals, so she didn't have to worry about me bringing him into the house. I went straight to my room on the second floor and released my companions. I laid Writhe out on the table, stroking him gently. Whiteback commandeered a pillow and I let him have it; I had two others. Alabaster simply stretched out on the floor, sighed, and went back to sleep. Glint didn't seem like he was going to fall asleep very easily though. He settled himself on the bedside table between the unconscious snake and me. I reached over and ran my fingers through his feathers. He flinched a little at my touch, but soon relaxed.

_Hey, I know it's hard, especially the first few days. But it will really help if you can get some rest, alright?_

_I… I don't think I can…_

_Do you want me to hypnotize you?_

_If it's not any trouble..._

I moved my fingers to the base of the bird's skull and signaled to his body that he sleep. Forced sleep wasn't harmful; it could actually be beneficial for sedative purposes. The bird slowly lowered his head and his eyes slipped shut.

_There, now everyone's asleep. My turn._ I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes. After what seemed like a minute I opened them again and it was light outside. Alabaster was waiting for me.

My companion turned his head when I got up. I didn't bother changing clothes yet.

"Alright big guy. Follow me." The massive dog trotted down the stairs after me. The others were still sleeping. It was probably around six in the morning. We went out the front door and headed around to the back yard. At which point I pulled out a pair of scissors and a dog brush I had found in the basement. "You, my friend, have more mats than I have fingers to deal with them. Now hold still." Alabaster was frustrated, but obediently froze. Because he didn't have particularly long fur, Most of the mats came apart with the brush. But there were some instances that required the scissors. After that, I gave the dog a thorough checkup, searching for any open wounds and the like. Once I'd decided that he was fine, I rubbed his head, rounded the side of the house and came back with a few more things. "Fun time." Alabaster's tail waved a little. I had a bottle of dish soap in my left hand and the hose in my right. What wasn't fun about that? Alabaster didn't have a problem with getting wet, but he did insist that I get absolutely soaked as well. He wrestled with the hose, drenching me and laughing all the while. Alabaster had a warm, sincere laugh. I liked it. Once we finally stopped messing around, I coated the Wolfdog with dish soap and did my best to rub the dirt out of his fur. At some point I took off his chain, but he didn't seem to mind. After I'd hosed him down again and towel-dried him to the best extent possible, we returned to the house. Alabaster found a place near the window that got a lot of sun and sat down right in the middle of the patch of light. I went upstairs to the guest bathroom. I tried my best not to spend too long in there, but I had to shower so I took 15 minutes. This also included brushing my teeth and cutting my hair though. I'd been particularly unhappy with my hair; it had been below the back of my head and I wasn't fond of it being that long. A few minutes with Maximum's electric razor fixed that. I went to go back outside, but stopped at the doorway to the office. Maximum was up; he was doing desk work, so he couldn't really talk, but he told me to look in a brown box in the garage. He didn't tell me what was in it. Alabaster and I headed out to the garage to see what he was talking about. We found that the box was essentially random stuff, like screwdrivers and the like. But there _was_ an old Frisbee in there. _That_ we liked.

_Throw it,_ the dog thought to me as we headed back outside. I whipped the disk out over the yard and Alabaster took off. Even though he was no longer in his prime, Alabaster was _extremely_ fast. He charged across the yard and threw himself into the air. His iron jaws locked around the Frisbee and he stretched out his feet in front of him and hit the ground running. He wheeled around and trotted back toward me, the orange disk securely pressed between his teeth. We played a little more; Alabaster was unimaginably agile; he could twist and turn in a second, and could launch himself a good six feet in the air. We did several challenging yet completely pointless stunts, like throwing a Frisbee near the woodpile and having him leap off of the top of it to get it, or a catch where he rolled over once upon hitting the ground rather than running. It was plenty of fun, and it took my mind off of Writhe. We raced each other around the yard some more, and played keep away with the Frisbee. Alabaster tackled me and nosed me all over, trying to find a space large enough for his snout to fit so that he could reach his target; I had curled into a ball over it. He finally turned me belly-up with his paws, but I twisted and rolled all the way over and to my feet, then took off again. At around 7:30 we noticed Barricade was watching us from the side of the house. He didn't realize that we knew he was there. Alabaster and I shared a single thought and I threw the Frisbee innocently off in Barricade's general direction and watched Alabaster bolt off after it. But he changed course and ran right at Barricade, the latter of which put his arms up in defense. But Alabaster swerved at the last second and shot past the Officer. Barricade looked between me and the canine, unimpressed. The dog came trotting back toward us, panting and eyes aflame. I walked over to the both of them, grinning.

"What's with you? I'd have thought you'd sleep later than this." Barricade rolled his eyes.

"I would have, but that opossum of yours knocked over a saucepan in the kitchen and woke me up." I shook my head.

"Huh, I thought he was too experienced to do something so clumsy."

"Well _something_ knocked it over. I assume it was Whiteback." I frowned.

"Maybe it was Glint. That makes more sense, especially if he was flying." Barricade nodded.

"Could've been him." The three of us walked back toward the front of the house. Barricade limped a little; he had a brace on his ankle, but still wasn't supposed to put very much weight on it. I absentmindedly wondered what the chances were of him following those instructions. I took Alabaster's rusty chain collar out of my pocket. "_God_ this is in bad shape. You want me to clean it for you Alabaster?"

"That wouldn't be an easy task," the dog replied, "there are so many links it would be almost impossible." I frowned. There were stains on the dog's fur from where the chain had rubbed against it. The chain itself was beyond repair; but the tags themselves were salvageable.

"Do you want a new one then?" His ears flattened.

"It has a lot of personal value. Those were my tags from the war."

"I didn't mean the tags, just the chain. I can put them on another collar." He hesitated.

"…All right. Just so long as you keep the tags." We climbed the steps up to the porch and went inside. Alabaster huffed. "Rookie, what exactly do you think you're doing?" I turned and spotted Glint hanging from the refrigerator door handle.

"I wanted something to eat… Father always said to try something for myself before I went for help…" I shook my head.

"No offense, but that's not always the best idea. Here, what do you want?" He inquired as to whether we had any bread. I patted him on the head and gave him some. He clambered onto my hand once he'd finished eating. A chill passed through my spine. The scales on his feet felt like Writhe's.

"You're worried about your snake, aren't you?" I nodded. I was impressed by how easily he'd pinpointed my worry. He was powerful for a symbiont his age. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's in a coma; it's like he's asleep, but you can't wake him up."

"Oh." He hesitated. "How long have you known him?"

"A few months. But I guess you could say I've done more in those few months than in the entire rest of my life. So let's just say my whole life." Glint seemed to follow my logic. I hesitated before my next statement.

"Your father knew me; thought you should know." The raven's eyes widened.

"What?"

"Sandstriker's mentor was the same as mine, he said. I used to talk about your father at the orphanage. The other kids laughed at me."

"That's mean."

"Well, they didn't know what a raven was."

"That's still mean." I laughed.

"I suppose you're right. That was part of the reason I ran away." Glint stared at me.

"You ran away?" I mentally smiled at his naïveté. I was grateful to have someone around who wasn't yet corrupted by the cold world around them.

"Yeah. Right in the heart of the city. They went looking for me but there was a girl about my age and appearance who got hit by a car a few days later, so I guess they thought it was me." The young symbiont's eyes were like saucers.

"What did you do then?"

"Some landlord let me stay in a vacant apartment if I did the cleaning."

"How'd you manage to convince him?"

"Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. My life's story is so completely impossible. You know?"

"I believe it. Father said weird stuff happens to carriers; stuff they can't change." I laughed.

"I'll by that. Honestly weird shit is always happening to me." Glint seemed a bit put off by my word choice. "Don't worry, I don't swear that often. I leave that to him," I said, gesturing at Barricade. The Officer made no effort to deny what I'd said, instead grunting and casting me a glance that communicated his amusement. "But anyway," I continued, "after that I ran into Ratbat and Writhe and Whiteback, and ended up here I guess. I feel like I'm ten years older than I was when I left."

"Really?"

"Really. Can you imagine me at the doctor's office? 'Hi, I'm Mirr, I'm 18, but I think I'm 28, is that normal?'" He finally laughed at that one. "Or worse, if I got in trouble. I haven't got an I.D. 'Can you show me some sort of identification ma'am?' 'No sir, haven't got any.' 'How old are you ma'am?' 'I think I'm 28 or something.'" Whiteback had come into the kitchen and was snickering with us. Even Alabaster expressed mild interest. "Then he'd be like, 'are you sure ma'am?' and I'd probably say no, and then he'd lean over so that they could see if my eyes were focused and be like, 'have you had a few tonight ma'am?" Whiteback was laughing now too. "And then the guy's partner who's been watching this whole thing is like 'Man, I think she's stoned.' Now everyone was laughing. "'Or schizophrenic!'" I shouted over my laughter, remembering the E.R. Whiteback was howling. Barricade was shaking his head, but I knew he was smiling. "'Do you see anyone besides us two, ma'am?'" Whiteback was dying. "And I'm like, 'weeeeell, there's that confused guy walking by over there, does he count?'" Maximum leaned out of his office and shushed us. "'Are you pulling our leg ma'am?' 'Well no, because how can you both have one leg?'" I whispered, giggling. Alabaster snorted. "And then they'd point a weapon at me and I'd shout 'dirigible!' or something else stupid and point at nothing and dive behind a trash can and they'd just get sick of me and leave. And I'd be like, 'mission accomplished'." It sounded like everyone was sneezing at the same time as they tried to muffle their laughter. Whiteback pounded the table. "My genius escape plan; feign insanity."

After that it was settled; Glint was one of us.

The search for help for Writhe was becoming impossible into the second week. Maximum could find no one who knew anything about snakes and comas anywhere, and Writhe only had about two months before he starved to death. Whiteback was going nuts trying to find something on the computer. It was the hardest on me; I was capable of waking the snake from his coma, but I had no idea how to do it. I felt as though I'd failed. Alabaster would give me advice, but nothing he suggested got me into Writhe's consciousness. To make matters worse, Barricade had started disappearing at night. I knew where he was going; the local tavern. I said nothing, but it became a large source of stress. The Officer knew I was hurting, but he was at a loss for how to help me. He started simply avoiding me. I carried on with my searching, but without knowing where he was or what he was doing, I worried even more. Then he was gone for two full days. The next time I saw him, he'd made up his mind.

"Look, Mirr… I don't want to trouble you or Kiya and Max any more than I have to. You're worrying about Writhe, and they have to feed me while I'm here. Maybe it'd be better if I left." I felt like somebody had just ripped a dagger straight through my heart.

_"What?" _

"I can tell you're busy, and I don't want to be in the way."

"You're not in the way; not at all."

"You're lying."

"How do you know? Besides, we've been working together for a while now; we're a team. You don't have to leave." Fear was tearing at my throat. Fear and something else… anger.

"It's not your decision," he said coldly.

"Then why did you phrase it like you wanted my input?" I growled.

"Maybe I wanted to make you aware of the situation."

"Why bother; you've been God knows where for the past few days and didn't bother to tell me about it."

"That's not your concern. What I do with _my_ time is _my_ business."

"Is it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I suddenly found myself unable to counter him. I knew what I wanted to say, but my fury and pride prevented it; I wanted to say that I felt betrayed. Somehow I felt like I had to stay close to Barricade; there was an odd yet deep loyalty to him gnawing at my very soul, a loyalty brought on by Nerollynix blood and strangely amplified by the mysterious loneliness of being a Psychi. Despite the fact that I'd only known him a short time, the thought of possibly never seeing Barricade again gouged a hole in me. I glared at him accusingly. It… it wasn't fair that he'd act like this. He was my friend…

"Well, fine, if it's your business, go ahead and leave," I managed finally. We stood there, frozen, at a loss for words.

"Fine." He turned and headed for the door. "And Mirr, we're not a team. You don't know anything about a team." Something about that remark pushed me over the edge.

"Don't know anything about a team? I'm part of one! My symbionts; they're a team; they're _my_ team! I'll run myself ragged for them, hurt for them, _die for them_… And you say I don't know anything about a team…"

"Have you ever been in combat?"

"Oh, so the only 'real' teams are in the military? Some team, leaving a comrade-in-arms for dead in enemy territory, losing faith in each other…" I'd been vague, but I suddenly realized I'd crossed a line by referencing Barricade's decision to desert.

"That's it! I'm done here! I've had enough of you and your nosiness and your smartass comments! You don't know a damn thing about the world, not a _damn fucking thing!_ And I'm tired of it!" He tromped out of the house. I was left there, shaking, in disbelief. _As if I don't know about the "real world". One of my best friends is in a coma, a __**Goddamn coma**__! And I "don't know a thing about the world". Not after I've been shot, sick, hurt and lost too many times to count… Why… why would you say that… __**How**__ could you say that…_ I couldn't move for a long time. When I finally did, I fled upstairs to my room and locked the door. I laid Writhe across my knees and stroked him, salty tears dripping onto his scales.


	6. Chapter 5

SOME GOOD WRITING NOW LETS HEAR IT FOR THIS WOOOHOOO IT'S RELATIVELY RECENT

AGIN NO SHIPPING FOR GODS SAKE HE'S LIKE HER OLDER BROTHER THERE IS NOTHING BETWEEN THEM NOTHING GODDAMIT

HEY YEAH LONGASS CHAPTER BUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHAPTERS SERIOUSLY i LAUGH SO HARD EVERY TIME I READ THIS SHIT

OH AND MAJOR SWEAR ALERT NO REALLY YOU DIDNT KNOW THAT BY NOW?

mAJOR eMONESs

SOUNDBUTT'S LONG-AWAITED DEBUT AND HE'S JUST AS AWESOME AS EVER

COLDBY STRIKES AGAIN GOD I LOVE HIM (BUT NOT LIKE THAT SERIOUSLY NO)

sORRY FOR YELLING AT YOU ALL BUT I KNOW THIS SITE IS FULL OF pERvS SO YEaH

Chapter 5

Barricade had been gone for two weeks when he heard the man. He was leaving the tavern and heard the soft crunch of aging rubber soles. He turned around, the fog in his head confusing him. A man whose age was indiscernible had come around the side of the building. His hair was long and scraggly and his teeth were broken. He wore a crooked smile, a pair of jeans and nothing else. From his right hand dangled a needle and in his left there was a bottle of vodka. He grinned and walked toward Barricade. The Officer stared at him. It took him until the other man was within ten feet of him to consider backing away. The scraggly-haired man grinned maniacally.

"'ello there. You wan' some?" He held up the needle.

"Dammit, I'm not _that_ drunk," growled Barricade. "Scram."

"Oh but you don' know what you is missin'."

"Go away."

"Nah. You wan' some o' dis instead?" he rasped, holding up the bottle.

"Don't tempt me," grumbled the Officer, "or I might kill you for it." The other man didn't seem bothered by this.

"Like 'a see you try you son-of-a-bitch."

"What did you call me?"

"Son-of-a-bitch. Naw, you ain' a son-of-a-bitch, you's a son-of-a-whorehouse bitch." That was the final straw.

"Fuck you!" roared Barricade. The other man giggled and ducked a punch. He was surprisingly nimble, and, when his own fist did make contact, he was more powerful than his lean form let on. He twisted to avoid Barricade's left hook and got his boney arms around the Officer's neck. Barricade clawed at him. The man raised the needle to stab his opponent. His fingers curled around Barricade's left arm. The Officer realized the other man's intentions too late to escape. He braced himself. Suddenly there was a blast; a mechanized sound that ricocheted off of the buildings nearby. The attacker slid lifeless to the ground. Barricade turned, still confused, toward the figure holding a pistol. As the stranger moved closer he holstered his weapon and tilted his head. Barricade squinted at him; the man was wearing an Officer's uniform. He had dark reddish hair and quizzical, laughing eyes. "You… you're…"

"Officer Coldby. And you, my friend, are lucky that I am. Anybody else would've watched that without lifting a finger." He looked more closely at Barricade. "Hell, you're a mess. Where've you been sleeping, a trash bin?"

"Something like that." Barricade swayed a bit as a wave of nausea passed through him.

"You're going to freeze out here; why don't we head to the station? Besides, I have a few things I'd like to ask you."

"Like what?" growled Barricade.

"Starting with the snake." Coldby registered the shock in Barricade's eyes and smirked. "Best be going then. Car's this way."

The ride to the station took a few hours; the bar had been on the farthest outskirts of Coldby's beat, which was rather far from the station to begin with. Coldby explained that it was the last one, and that nobody else would take it, so they'd shoved it on the rookie. Barricade realized about halfway to their destination that the other Officers might have questions. Coldby waved it away.

"They're all out getting wasted like you." Barricade said nothing for the rest of the car trip. Coldby parked in the furthest spot from the door. "The others have this thing where they egg your car if you park in 'their spot'," he explained, "So I take this one because I know nobody wants it." Once in the building Coldby shook his head at the mess that greeted them. "Aw come on. If I wasn't here they'd all be living in a pigsty." Barricade watched him clean for a while, then sat down at the table and eyed a half-empty bottle of Smirnov. "Won't be needing that," said Coldby sharply and tossed the bottle into the trash can he was lugging behind him. "You've already had enough for one night." Barricade watched him for another few minutes, then remarked, "why bother?" Coldby laughed. "I have three younger sisters and a little brother, and my dad was a single parent. I clean up after _everybody_. It's second nature to me. You have any siblings?"

"Naw… I was an accident." Coldby laughed.

"Really?" Barricade shrugged.

"It seemed that way." Coldby nodded.

"Want a coffee?" Barricade frowned at him. "Well? I'm not going to offer you anything else to drink."

"Fine."

"Sugar?"

"No." Coldby looked at him, a funny expression on his face.

"All right, whatever you say."

The coffee machine had other ideas and Coldby had to give it a good whack before it spat out any liquid. He set his cup down on the table across from Barricade and slid the other to him.

"So the snake."

"How do you know about that?" growled Barricade suspiciously.

"Did you really think I thought it was a scarf? The girl had it draped around her neck. Dead thank goodness or it could've killed her. That particular kind of snake," he said, taking a sip of his coffee, "is _extremely_ lethal. Worse than a cobra. It's called a krait."

"It's not dead," said Barricade without thinking about it, "and how do you know?" Coldby eyed him suspiciously.

"You know the little brother? We had four snakes in our house by the time he was eight. He could practically charm them. He knows every snake in the books. And about the krait, if it's not dead, what is it?"

"Comatose." Barricade said, suddenly realizing what he'd gotten himself into. "But why do you care?"

"Because," said Coldby pointedly, "that snake was seen a few cities over a couple of years ago. Killed four people during a bank heist. And do you know how I know it's the same one? The head. One of the bands has a jagged white bolt that cuts into it, same as the picture. And I asked my brother, they don't all have it. Lemme tell you something else. Strange markings on animals often signify that they're symbionts. Anything you want to tell me about your little schizophrenic friend?"

"I don't know her. I didn't even realize there was a snake."

"Nice try buddy, but you're a bit too woozy to pull that one off right now. You said the snake was comatose, remember? How would you know that if you didn't know it was a snake at all? You know that girl, don't you?"

"I talked to her. She's nuts."

"Then how come you have so much faith in her telling you that the snake was in a coma?" Barricade fought to keep a straight face. "Look, you're just a little too out of it right now to manage to fool me."

"What do you care if it's a symbiont?"

"You think I'll tell you that?"

"I think you're gonna have to," hissed Barricade threateningly. Coldby took out his gun and played with it.

"I don't _have_ to do anything."

"What do you want with the girl?"

"So you do know her."

"You knew that."

"Maybe I did. But it could've been a guess."

"What do you want with her?!" Barricade snarled.

"Easy there, I don't want to have to shoot you."

"I've been shot before."

"Not in the head you haven't."

"Now you _don't_ know that."

"Yeah I do."

"No you don't. 'Cuz I have." Coldby stiffened. "I'm an ex-soldier, kid. I know guns better than I know people, so you'd better start talking."

"Show me the scar."

"Whatever you say." Barricade turned his head and pointed behind his ear. Coldby leaned over and Barricade stamped Coldby's right hand with his coffee cup and snatched the pistol. Coldby was speechless. "Okay," growled Barricade, "I haven't been shot in the head. But I _am_ a soldier. And I _will_ act like it. Tell me what I want to know, and I'll shoot you quick and painless. Otherwise…" He pointed the gun at Coldby's waist. "Things are gonna get ugly."

"That's not loaded." Coldby said, slightly shaken. Barricade pulled a cartridge out of his pocket and shoved it into the gun.

"It is now." Coldby stared at him. "Kid, I'm an ex-soldier _and_ an ex-Officer. I know where you keep your extra ammo in your cruiser." Coldby was rigid and silent. "Like you said, I'm a little out of it. But I'm aware enough to tell you this; I'm an angry drunk. So you'd best do as I tell you." The young man swallowed.

"I don't want anything to do with the girl or the snake. I honestly just wanted to figure out what was going on. People…" he paused. "People have been acting funny since I showed up here, and it's gotten progressively worse. I was curious and I figured maybe she was part of the puzzle, you know? If there's trouble, a Psychi can usually sniff it out."

"And why would you want to get involved in trouble?" hissed Barricade.

"For a reason you wouldn't understand," said Coldby quietly, "a reason nobody in this profession understands."

"What don't I understand?" the older man growled.

"I want to do my job."

"Pardon…?" Barricade straightened in surprise.

"I told you that you wouldn't understand. None of the others do either. You took the job because it was easy money or something of the like. I did too… but there was another reason. It… always gave me a bit of a thrill, helping people; like I'd done something worthwhile. And maybe not anymore, but Officer Forces—once, a long time ago—were employed by the state to protect people; to maintain order. And if there's one thing that isn't here, it's order. So I thought I could fix that. Even if I'm not a soldier… or a Nerollynix." Barricade was quiet a moment, trying to comprehend what he was hearing. His thoughts were clearer now, and he was beginning to process things rationally. The extremely long car trip and the lengthy interrogation had allowed for time for the alcohol to slip out of his bloodstream.

"How can I trust that answer? There's a lot of trouble around here right now, trouble that'd like to see me and the girl dead. How do I know you aren't with them?" Coldby looked at him. There was no answer to that question. Barricade moved to get up. "I think I'll take this with me," he said, fingering the gun, "because I don't know who knows I'm here now. And if I hear that that girl has one scratch on her, you're fucked." He turned to leave.

"My grandfather," said Coldby slowly, "hated carriers with a passion. He didn't understand them—thought that they had too much power for the good of humanity." It had been a long time since Barricade had heard the word humanity rather than the name of a single race. It shook him. To mention humanity was to treat all races as one… and that was unheard of. "But my mother… she wouldn't have any of it. She said that they were people, and that some people were better at some things than others. She died when I was nine, but I'd known her long enough, I suppose, to adopt her viewpoint. You don't have to believe me, but I just wanted you to know." Barricade said nothing. "Don't go anywhere near the alleys north of here. …Bad things… happen there."

"Is that a warning or a threat?"

"Whatever you take it to be." Barricade turned and left the building. He placed the pistol in his pocket where he could reach it without trouble. He had a feeling he'd need it soon enough.

I moved through the sea of decrepit buildings, Whiteback waddling along about ten feet in front of me.

"You're sure he's here?" The opossum snuffled the air a bit.

"Positive." Alabaster's mention of symbionts being able to tap into each other's memories had gotten Whiteback and me thinking. Whiteback had the remnants of some of Ratbat's memories of Soundwave, including his scent and telepathic signature. And according to Ratbat's description of the man, we figured he might be able to help Writhe. We'd been investigating the site indicated by the signature, but more and more we got the feeling that Soundwave wouldn't be there. Now, after identifying more sensible area for a carrier's safe house (by using my own opinions on what was and wasn't ideal) on an online map and exploring the place in reality several days a week, my marsupial friend had finally caught a scent. I'd left Glint at home for obvious reasons; he was a young and I didn't want him getting hurt. Alabaster was another story entirely. He'd _kill_ me for not bringing him along when he found out where I'd been. But to me, Writhe's condition was a personal matter, and Whiteback was the only one of my current symbionts who truly understood what my relationship had been with the snake. Plus I didn't think Alabaster's dislike of his chell would be very helpful either; he was out of place in this part of town. But an opossum was a common sight in these parts, so Whiteback could easily follow a trail without looking strange. We wound around some debris and reached a building that made a little light bulb go off in my head.

The place looked terrible; the windows were shattered, there were rust stains on the walls and there was crumbling concrete everywhere. But when I looked closely enough I could see that the supports were all still in place and the roof was decent. It looked uninhabitable, but was actually a sound structure. A perfect hiding spot. Whiteback was indicating that the scent led inside. I gathered my courage and stepped through the hole that might've once been a door. At first nothing seemed out of place. But as I moved deeper into the warehouse, a strange sensation passed through me. Whiteback felt it too; I saw him shudder. I hadn't felt anything around Sandstriker, and I'd known him from before. Why was a presence I could not have recognized triggering such a response from me? We shrugged it off and moved further into the dark. I felt it growing stronger, and pressed forward with more enthusiasm. At the point where a dull, foggy ache developed in my head, I began to worry. But Whiteback was with me, and I had to help Writhe, so I kept moving. We reached an open room and suddenly a wave of pain washed over me. I cried out and dropped to my hands and knees. Whiteback scampered over to me.

"Mirr?" I felt a tendril of saliva dribble down my chin and a spasm jerked through me. I fell to the ground, but the concrete didn't catch me. I felt the presence draw nearer as the world slipped away.

_Pl… please… I'm a carrier…_ No response. _My symbiont… dying… please…_ It was becoming hard to think. I was tired, more tired than I'd ever been. I couldn't move. I was losing my awareness. The presence was still there. I reached out toward it, crying, pleading. _Please… friend… Ratbat… help…_ If there was any change in the other consciousness, I was too far gone to register it. I turned to Writhe's link and whispered to him through another spasm of pain. _I'm so sorry Writhe… So… sorry…_ And then I was beaten. The world was gone.

Alabaster trotted down the street. It had been three weeks since Barricade had left, and his absence had taken a heavy toll on Mirr; she was constantly worried about what had happened to him. It wasn't as if Alabaster trusted the man, but the Wolfdog grudgingly had to admit that from Mirr's memories Barricade seemed a valuable ally, especially considering Mirr's fragile and unintimidating appearance. Alabaster had searched and found a trail a few days ago, but surprisingly Barricade hadn't returned to the same tavern.

_What are you doing Barricade? Why not come back? It's the same beer everywhere._ He trotted along until he found the dying scent trail. _Like it or not, I'm going to find you. And then I'll give you a piece of my mind for making Mirr's Hell just that much worse._ The white dog ran the trail as if he were twenty years younger, paws flying over the ground. He wasn't sure how he managed it, being far past his prime, but he was certain of one thing; there would be no escape for the Officer that he was tracking.

Barricade was sitting against the wall of a brick building when Alabaster finally caught up with him over six hours later. The man was decidedly thinner than he'd been upon leaving, and there were a few scattered bruises that hadn't been there before. He was almost asleep despite the frigid evening weather. Surprisingly he didn't smell like he'd been drinking; the scent of alcohol was old, almost a week and a half old. Alabaster was surprised; he hadn't thought that the Officer had possessed that amount of self-control. That or he was dead. It was hard to smell him over the other decaying things in the dumpster beside him. As the dog moved closer to the slumped figure, the indistinct odor of unwell crawled to his nose. _He hasn't eaten in days,_ thought the wolf to himself. He reached out with his consciousness and examined Barricade's mind. Symbionts were excellent emotional sensors, and Alabaster was extremely practiced. Nevertheless he was shocked by the power of the emotions contained in the man's head. Tempered fury snapped and cracked like lightning and numbness puffed itself up as storm clouds. And behind the both of these was a sense of agony far greater than the Wolfdog had ever felt before. It was the sort of depression that killed men, too strong for even alcohol to relieve. It had already significantly reduced the Officer's will to live. Alabaster reached Barricade's side and the man didn't move. The dog pawed him and finally the Officer's eyes slipped open and he frowned at the dog in the fading light.

"Damn you Barricade." The man let his head loll the other way.

"…don't need it from you…"

"Yeah you do. You have no idea what that girl is going through right now."

"…I kinda do…"

"Shut up; this isn't about you."

"…didn't want her to worry…"

"Well that sure as hell isn't what happened. You don't realize what goes on in her head. I don't expect you too; you're not a symbiont or a carrier. But I do expect you to let me tell you."

"…whatever you say," said the Officer, not seeming to care.

"She hasn't spoken to anybody, except maybe Writhe to tell him she's there and Glint so the kid doesn't worry about _her_. I don't know if she's talked to Whiteback today, but last I spoke to him he said he was in the dark too. You're making her life even more of a living Hell than you were before. It's not as simple as removing yourself from the equation. If you had a friend with a severe illness and they just decided they were going to disappear to stop stressing you, would that keep you from worrying about them? No! Mirr doesn't know where you are, what you're doing or whether you're sick or hurt or _dead_. It's _like_ you're dead only she can't stop worrying because _what if you aren't?_ Do you know what you're doing to her? I've crawled into her head a few times while she was sleeping and went through the day's memories. She's hurt; she thought she could trust you. Can she? Especially after what you said to her…"

"I told her I was leaving."

"And a few other choice things as well."

"Will you leave me alone, dammit?"

"No."

"I'm not going back."

"Why? It's not just about the worrying, is it?"

"…the hell do you care?"

"You're afraid."

"What?"

"Afraid your problems will become everyone else's."

"You don't know that."

"Of course I do. I've known for a while now. You're worried you'll drag her into something, or worse, directly hurt her."

"Then it's better if I'm gone."

"Really? Who's going to drag her out of anything _she_ gets _herself_ into?"

"What's she going to get herself into?"

"She is a carrier with a symbiont that's as good as dying. She'll do anything, and I mean _anything_, to snap him out of his coma. That's her job. And my job is to make sure she doesn't kill herself while she's at it."

"She's not stupid."

"No, but she does "things that _seem_ stupid to the outside observer", doesn't she?" Bits of Barricade's mind were becoming cold with apprehension. He knew that Alabaster was right. "There's no shame," the dog said quietly, "in admitting you're wrong if it'll allow you to make things right." The Officer turned to the dog, and slowly, very slowly, nodded. "Let's go talk to her then." Barricade picked himself up and followed the huge white wolf. Something was gnawing at him, about the "things that _seem_ stupid" that made him suddenly extremely worried.

I felt as though there was a cloud of needles around my head. And they kept pricking me. An annoying link kept prodding at my consciousness. I was confused and suspicious; who was bothering me? The link developed and through the haze in my brain I was able to make out a distinct personality, weaker than a carrier, but stronger than an ordinary human—a symbiont; not one of mine. I growled at it.

_Hey there, slow down,_ it seemed to think at me. I backed away, but then stopped, alarmed. The farther away I moved, the harder it was to think; it was like my mind was being buried in lots of Kiya's custard pie filling. _See, that's not getting you anywhere,_ grumbled the voice, exasperated. _Now come here so I can pull you out._ I moved forward, but then stopped. My thoughts were conflicted and out of order, but I remembered danger and Whiteback.

_Hang on… Why should I trust you? _

_You'll be dead as a doornail if you don't. _

_And you'll leave him alone. _

_What?_

_My symbiont,_ I hissed, _If I'm dead, you'll leave him alone. _

_The hell? I don't get this. _

**_My symbiont is stuck in that room with you and your motherfucker of a carrier. _**

_…Ouch. But what does that have to do with you? _

_What do __**you**__ have to do with me?_

_Hey, easy there. We're willing to help you if you'll tell us about Ratbat._

_Ratbat…? _

_Yes, __**Ratbat**__ you dumbass._ I was too annoyed at my impaired thinking to bother reacting to his insult. _The symbiont? You know, the __**bat**__? _

_Three strikes and yooooooouuu're out!_

_Shut the fuck up you annoying hybrid. _

_No. If I let you pull me out of… wherever I am right now… you'll threaten to hurt my symbiont if I don't tell you what you want to know._ I didn't even _want_ to know how he knew I was a hybrid. Maybe his master had forced Whiteback to tell them about me.

_That's called negotiation sweetheart. _

_So therefore if I'm dead, you'll have no use for him. And If I just sit here long enough, I'll be dead, right?_

_As a doornail. But what makes you think we'll let him go?_

_Your carrier is a __**goddamn carrier**__. They won't go after other symbionts unless they absolutely have to. I know I won't. And if I'm dead, then your master won't be able to use him for anything, and will let him leave. _

_Why don't you want to tell us where Ratbat is?_

_Because I don't trust you, you little shit! _I was in some ways pleased at having a vent for my recent emotional overload. _You hurt me!_

_That wasn't me._

_Fine, your carrier. Same difference. _

_And Ratbat comes into this how…?_

_You might hurt him. _

_You just said carriers don't hurt symbionts. _

_Doesn't mean they won't capture him and Ravage and try to get him to reveal Soundwave's location. _

_Uh, hey Einstein, my carrier __**is**__ Soundwave. _

_Possible,_ I thought, a particularly powerful wave of confusion washing over me, _but you could also have set up a trap. Captured me, manipulated me, made me think that that was true. I won't let you hurt them—even if it means I have to die. _

_Uh, real admirable, but you're gonna get more confused the longer you stay down here. Maybe we should think about this somewhere else. _The voice was getting nervous. I had to admit, it was getting harder and harder to think straight, but my instincts to protect my symbionts were too strong to be suppressed. I hung onto them, seeking a straight answer.

_No. I have to keep them safe. _

_Okay really, you're losing it. Even __**I'm**__ starting to lose it. _

_Will I die faster if I go backwards again?_

_Um, __**no**__, dipshit._

_Liar._

_Hey—hey, wait, stop! At least talk to him!_

_Who, _I growled in a flat, uninterested tone.

_My carrier!_

_The asshole that put me in this situation? I think not. _

_Really! You __**have**__ to talk to him! Please! Hear him out! _

_Yeah… Not sounding like fun right now. _

_Do it or I'll drag you to him. _

_I'd like to see you try you little fucker._ We scuffled mentally for a short period of time and ended in a stalemate. I was surprised; normally carriers outmatched symbionts in mental combat without any trouble at all. _I really am starting to disappear…_

_No__** shit **__Sherlock! _

_You just get the fuck away from me. _

_No! We __**have**__ to find him! __**Have to!**_

_Find who?_

**_Ratbat. Duh. Earth to shit-for-brains, anyone home?_**

_Shut up, damn you! I'm trying to die in peace. _

_No really, __**stop! We need you! Stop!**_

_I'm sure you do. _

**_Fuck_**_ you're a stubborn one. _

_I feel like Barricade out on the town with too much Smirnov right now. _

_The hell?_

_I'm so fuzzy I feel drunk—or at least how I imagine that feels; I've never had anything alcoholic—and I'm swearing a lot. _

_Not one drink? Impressive. Even my carrier's been wasted once or twice. _

_I'm sure he has. I've just never felt the need for it. And it's not like I could get any kind of liquor even if I wanted to. Do you know what you have to do for a bottle of that shit? _

_Reminds me—can you just say hi to Master or something, Little Miss Innocent? He's virtually gone off his rocker over the loss of Ravage and Ratbat. I can barely keep him sane. _

_Wonder if that's how my boys feel about me right now…_

_…What? _

_My symbionts. Wonder if they're worried. _

_Why would they be? _

_My other symbiont I brought with me is comatose. Plus my best friend and I had a fight and he left because he thought he was being a burden... I don't know where the hell he is or if he's even still alive… I've been a wreck. _

_No wonder you're suicidal. You're screwed. _

_Shut up…_

_Losing your badass attitude eh?_

_I don't want to talk to your carrier. _

_Please; he might be able to sympathize. _

_I'm not a selfish little brat; my emotional needs do not outweigh my symbiont's safety. _

_True; but you sound real lonely. Kinda like him. _

_All Psychi are lonely. _

_You're not pure Psychi. _

_So?_

_So you're not meant to be this alone. _

_You're manipulative._

_And?_ I fought hard between the only two parts of me that were strong enough to think; Emotion and Instinct. Reason was barely there, but fading fast.

_…fine. Will I be able to think any clearer? _

_A little. Come here; I'll see if I can pull you out to him…_ I latched onto the symbiont and slowly felt myself lifted. There was a second presence here, this one so overpowering it hurt my head like bright light hurts the eyes when one crawls out of a dark hiding place. The symbiont disappeared, most likely returning to the conscious world.

_…Are you…? _ I thought quietly to the other carrier.

_Soundwave, _he finished for me. There was a desperation to him that contrasted vividly with my own calm thoughts.

_Funny… and I'm the one who might die here… He's so anxious…_

_No thoughts are private here, child, _he said, the strained note still evident. I could see why the symbiont was so uncomfortable.

_I see. But I can hide things from you, and vice versa. Yet I get the feeling you're too tired to do that now…?_

_You are not so strong yourself… However, your age gives you extra energy—something I no longer enjoy the benefit of. _

_I feel like I'm a million years old—or more accurately, like I'm supposed to act like I'm a million years old._

_Your existence is a troubled one. It always is for our kind. _

_I see… _ Part of me was absolutely thrilled at being able to actively converse with another Psychi.

_My remaining Symbiont informed me that you mentioned Ratbat. _

_I did._

_Where is he? _I felt him fighting to keep from screaming at me to tell him; he was virtually drowning in worry. _I have been unable to find him; by the time I had recovered enough of my strength to search for him after my escape, the bond was broken. _

_That would be my fault… He had nowhere to go, so he went with me…_

_You?_

_For a time we travelled together. He was the first symbiont I ever formed a bond with. _

_But… this was only a matter of months ago…_

_I've only known what I am for a few months. It's been a… rough adjustment…_

_One could imagine. When did the two of you part ways? _

_When he found Ravage. Ravage thought he knew where you were. But if they never found their way here… That makes me worried. _I didn't know why I was telling this other carrier all these things when I wasn't even positive who he was, but something just… clicked. I would learn that this was common for carriers; they often understood each other incredibly well. _Um… not to be rude, but… your symbiont said you'd be able to get me out of here… wherever here is. _

_You are in the nether, between living and dead; half dead. In a way, comatose. _

_Like Writhe…_

_Elaborate._ I got the feeling this carrier was just as eager for a decent conversation as I was.

_My other symbiont; I have four and I brought two to the building. _

_I only detected two active links; yours and your opossum's. _

_Writhe got hit over the head and won't wake. He's alive, but not conscious. Comatose. _

_When did this happen?_

_A few weeks ago. We've been searching and searching and have found no help… and… I'm not strong enough to wake him on my own… _

_I see… Perhaps… I have an offer for you. In exchange for my help with Writhe, you will help me find Ratbat? _

_It sounds mutually beneficial… But I have to ask… Why did you attack me? _

_I am… vulnerable… at this point in time… I was wary of possible assassins. _

_Um… sure… Can you wake me up and then we can talk? _

_Do you accept the terms of the deal? _

_…Yes. Anything for Writhe. _

_Then do not let go of my consciousness. It is a painful journey to the waking world. _

Barricade and Alabaster trotted down the street toward Maximum's house. The Wolfdog let out a sharp bark of worry when he spotted Glint flying towards them. The raven lighted on the concrete before them, looking nervous.

"Alabaster, do you know where Mirr is?" Barricade's blood was like ice.

"I thought she was home with you." The young bird shook his head.

"No. Whiteback is missing too." Alabaster recalled a specific reaction he'd sensed in Mirr to an explanation of searching symbiont memories for traces of valuable information. An idea began to form in his head.

"What about Writhe?"

"The snake? I thought he was in Mirr's room."

"Go fly back and check. Now. We'll meet you at the Southeast street corner." The bird obediently fluttered away. Barricade looked at Alabaster, fear beginning to seep into his mind.

"What are you thinking?"

"I hope I'm incorrect, but I have a strong suspicion that Mirr went looking for Soundwave."

"What? But Ratbat already…"

"Because of Writhe. She probably figured that Soundwave would be experienced enough to help him."

"But she didn't ever find out where he was!"

"But Whiteback knows—through Ratbat. And he is just as capable of following a scent or energy signature as I am. This combined with Mirr's cunning and intuition regarding possible hideouts, and I would not be surprised if she found him."

"How is this a bad thing?"

"Carriers under intense stress can be dangerous; especially if they are protective of their symbionts. And judging by Soundwave's recent ordeal, he could very well mistake Mirr for a threat." They were almost at the corner now. Glint didn't wait for them to get there. Panic was scrawled into his eyes.

"Writhe's gone," his said hoarsely. Barricade felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest.

"Damn it Mirr! Why do you do these things?" he snarled at the sky.

"Alter the wording and names, and that was exactly how she felt about you."

"_This_ is not my fault!"

"No, but your absence made her withdraw to herself and left her exposed; with only one conscious symbiont, she is very weak and far more easily outmatched in psychic combat." Suddenly both symbionts went rigid. Glint started whimpering.

"What?" said Barricade, sensing that something was wrong, "what happened?"

"She's lost consciousness," growled the Wolfdog, "and she's in pain. I can track her energy signature. But we need to get there fast."

"Think I can be of any help in that department?" Barricade whirled and stared. Sitting smugly in his car on the side of the road was Officer Coldby.

"Sirens or no?"

"I'm driving," said Barricade immediately, "And don't mind the talking animals."

"Are you sure…"

"Hell yes. Now move."

"Do you have a valid driver's license?"

"Shut the fuck up. I'm not drunk."

"Still, I don't know if…"

"Dog gets shotgun. You're with the bird."

"No way."

"Fine, you get shotgun. But I'm still driving," he growled, letting Alabaster and Glint into the backseat.

"When was the last time…."

"_Move damn it!_ I've driven before and I'm a hell of a lot better at it than you are."

"I haven't seen you drive…"

"Allow me to demonstrate." Coldby reluctantly climbed over the stick shift into the passenger seat. "Is this stick?" Barricade asked somewhat excitedly.

"Can you drive stick?"

"Like hell." Barricade stepped into the car and jabbed Coldby's shoulder. "Belt. Now," he growled, adjusting the seat and putting his own seatbelt on. He turned to look at the two passengers. "You two might need belts too," he mused. Coldby did not like where this was going. "Give the dog a belt; the bird can follow from the air." Glint flapped out the window and Alabaster reluctantly allowed himself to be fastened in.

"Okay, but are you sure you know what you're…"

"Oh look, an emergency," snapped Barricade curtly as he threw the car into gear and flipped on the lights and siren. Coldby would be glad that he'd been reminded about the seatbelt, thought the driver somewhat maliciously.

'Like hell' was an accurate description of Barricade's driving. Coldby was sure they were going to crash several times. _I cannot believe I am here listening to a dog give directions and letting an alcoholic maniac drive my cruiser,_ he thought somewhat disgustedly. Barricade had gunned it from the start, upshifting more rapidly than the younger Officer thought possible. Yet despite the ex-soldier's apparent lack of control, he handled the car with surprising skill. He was able to maneuver hairpin turns and had incredible reflexes. He easily steered through traffic, running reds and cutting through parking lots. **_Where_**_ did this guy learn to drive?_ Coldby thought between minor heart attacks. Barricade was thoroughly enjoying himself. _Damn, I haven't driven __**anything**__ in __**years!**_ he purred happily to himself. _This alone would get me off beer for the rest of my life._ The thought reminded him of Mirr, and his exhilaration faded, replaced with intense focus. He waited for the next direction from Alabaster.

"We're almost there," barked the Wolfdog, "Slow down and turn off the siren." _Dog's got a point,_ thought the ex-Officer. _Don't want them knowing we're here._ He switched off the siren but left the lights.

Barricade killed the engine across the street from a number of decrepit buildings.

"You're sure this is where she is?" he inquired of the Wolfdog.

"Absolutely," was the gruff reply. Barricade pulled Coldby's pistol out of his pocket.

"You, stay with the car and the bird. Alabaster and I are going in."

"Hell no!"

"Don't fight with me; this is out of your depth. Carriers can be nasty pieces of work, and you have no experience dealing with them."

"I thought we were going to_ help_ the girl."

"It's not her I'm worried about," Barricade huffed and stepped out of the car. He opened the back door and let Alabaster out. "Find them."

"Not challenging; I can smell that opossum anywhere. They went this way." With that wolf and soldier sprang across the broken pavement, moving in sync. _Like they're at war,_ Coldby thought suddenly. The dog was just ahead and to the right of the soldier; running point. As Coldby watched them disappear into the darkness, he realized that there was something very powerful about the older man. He couldn't describe it properly, but Maximum had. It was a special sort of loyalty; the kind that was hard to earn but impossible to break. The Protos in Barricade made him question, but once there was something he would not argue with the Nerollynix created an overwhelming need for him to protect that something… or someone. As Glint lighted on the cab of the cruiser, Coldby felt a static sensation in the air. Lightning broke the murky sky above the two, and rain began to fall with a crescendo of hissing droplets. Man and bird ducked into the car, and waited anxiously for the return of their fellows.

Barricade kept the pistol out in front of him, wary. The dog was signaling that they were close now. Alabaster froze for a moment and his companion tensed. They exchanged a glance; they were ready. The two bolted into the next room, and Barricade nearly dropped his weapon in shock. Mir was face-up on the ground and a man he did not recognize had his fingers pressed against her temples. Alabaster had recovered from the momentary confusion, and was growling at a huge bird that had just shaken itself awake. Barricade's emotions began to recede, the numbness of combat flooding his head. He steadied the shivering gun.

"Get away from her, now!" The other man, his eyes closed, did not respond. The bird shrieked indignantly, fanning out its feathers. "I said _now_." There was no emotion to Barricade's voice; it was an authoritative snarl and signified that he meant business. The bird screamed at him again and the strange man still didn't move. Barricade was not a pushover and he made sure he showed it. He fired just left of the man, and the bird leapt backward in alarm. The soldier readjusted the weapon and there was the tinkling of a bullet casing on concrete. "I won't miss next time, dammit!" Suddenly a familiar voice startled him.

"Don't!" Whiteback the opossum bounded towards them and put himself between Barricade and his target. "Please, you can't! If you break his focus Mirr will die!" Alabaster straightened.

"What?"

"She's stuck in the nether, Alabaster! He's the only one who can get her out!"

"But he had to have put her in; she didn't just kill herself did she?" Barricade was beginning to lose his nerve. Alabaster's statement about Mirr's possible suicide had shocked the Officer out of his soldier's mindset, and his hands were shaking again.

"What's the nether?" he asked, voice betraying his worry. Alabaster looked at him grimly.

"It's a catch zone between life and death; rather similar to a deep coma. Once in the nether, if left alone, a mind will slowly deteriorate and leave the host brain-dead. It is a very fragile psychic state."

"And he put her there?"

"Undeniably. He must be powerful for a carrier; it is not an easy task, especially with a mind like Mirr's. She's been like this for a little over 45 minutes… that's how long her link's been unreachable. I'm surprised it's been this long—Mirr is strong enough to easily escape with the right aid."

"So why hasn't she?" Alabaster looked at the girl's limp form darkly.

"She must be fighting him."

"But if he's trying to get her out…?"

"She must be willing to die."

"You're quite correct, wolf." They whipped around. The bird was eyeing them. "She's very much willing to die. For the opossum. She believes that we will hurt him to force her to tell us about Ratbat. I've managed to convince her to speak to Soundwave, but before that I was damn worried she'd just let herself go."

"This doesn't make any sense—why would she do that?" said Barricade, his voice twitching with fear.

"She wants to protect him," the bird said, gesturing at Whiteback, "and Ratbat. Also it's not as if there's much fight left in her."

"What the hell do you mean?" snarled Barricade viciously. Doubt was beginning to prickle in his head; he was terrified of what the bird might say.

"She's been extremely unhappy recently, she told me."

"About… about what…? The snake and… and…" Guilt ripped at the Officer.

"…You're him, aren't you?" the bird said, riddling it out.

"What do you mean by 'him'?" said Barricade. His voice was shrill from panic.

"You're the one that she said she didn't know was alive or dead. Her friend—her best friend." Barricade fought the urge to wail in despair.

"Fuck…" he whispered, and let the pistol fall to the floor. He staggered over to Mirr and gripped her left forearm. "Damn you, you little…" His voice broke. "Don't do this to me… Don't do this to any of us," he moaned. "Don't do this…"

Soundwave had been right; I felt like I was being pulled apart. The forces dragging me down into the nether had become steadily stronger with each minute. I felt like I was pulling octopus suckers off of me.

_Don't let go,_ said the other carrier, and from his voice I could tell he was also in considerable pain. I tried, I really did. But I was so tired, so drained, that I had nothing left. My grip slipped. _No!_ howled Soundwave, but he was too far away to come back for me. I was falling, falling, falling… A funny pressure on my left arm was all I felt.

Soundwave snapped awake and snarled in rage and desperation. He had failed; he hadn't been able to catch her. He was suddenly aware of another man and symbiont in the room. He flinched, aware of their eyes on him and was suddenly self-conscious; he must've looked terrible. The left side of his head had been badly injured from where another carrier's polar bear symbiont had torn it, and he couldn't see out of his left eye. His right arm was crudely bandaged and it was incredibly painful to move it. But he had endured the pain for the chance of finding Ratbat. And now he had failed. The other man was clearly a friend of the female carrier; he was so frightened for her life that he was shaking. He looked at Soundwave, the frantic terror in his eyes so pronounced that the carrier did not need his symbiont to feel the emotions radiating off of the other man.

"Don't let her be… She can't be… dead…" he managed through his cracked voice. Soundwave only looked down. "No… _No!_" shrieked the other man, his grip on the girl's arm tightening. "Mirr, dammit, don't _leave _us like this! _Do you hear me? __**Don't!**_ Don't…" Soundwave suddenly noticed something profound; the girl's hand had twitched, if only ever so slightly, at the pressure from the man's fingers around her forearm.

"Keep a tight hold on her arm," he said. His own voice was raspy from old damage to his vocal chords. He could barely speak, and definitely not without pain, but he would in order to find Ratbat—and perhaps even simply to save the young carrier who seemed, from the reactions of her friends and from her own demeanor, a trustworthy and sympathetic person... The other man's head snapped up at Soundwave's comment, a primal sort of fear and hope all fused into one emotion washing off of his Officer's jacket. Soundwave pointed at the other man's hand and he nodded, a crazed look in his eyes. The carrier himself returned his fingers (with much discomfort to his injured arm) to the girl's temples, pressed, and delved back into her mind.

I was cold, shivering even. I fell further and further. Something was keeping me awake… What was it? A white-hot pain registered in my left arm. _Wh…what…?_ I thought. I was slowing now, thinking. Right then the pain lessened. My head swam. _N…no! Come back!_ I screeched wildly. Terror gripped me for a few moments, and then the pressure on my arm returned. _Please… don't leave… whatever or whoever you are…_ I focused intensely on my arm and felt myself stop falling. I reached as far as I could for the source. And slowly, very, very slowly, I felt the octopus suckers begin to release me again. I floated steadily upward until a familiar mind reached out so that I could latch onto it. _S…Soundwave…_ He did not answer, only sent me feelings of an urgent need to escape. I did not need any more convincing. I hung on as the other carrier slowly but surely lifted me back to the world of the living. The searing pain bolted through me again, but somehow the pressure on my arm kept me focused. With a sharp jolt of excruciating pain, I was alive again—I could see the ceiling of the room I was in. I panted for a few seconds, then something grabbed me. At first I was frightened, but then I recognized the pressure as a hug. But who…? My mind was still a little fuzzy.

"Damn you Mirr…" someone murmured, "God _fucking_ damn you…"

_Barricade…? Barricade…!_ I clung to him. He was alive! Neither of us let go for over a minute; each of us needed to be sure that the other was actually there.

"Mirr, I didn't… I wouldn't have… I would never have left without a reason…" Barricade said. I was surprised at how broken up he sounded. "I thought that if I was gone… maybe you'd be safer… and stop worrying…" I was just happy he was there. "...I thought that I couldn't control myself… that I'd do something reckless when I was wasted and you'd get hurt… and I'd never forgive myself if that happened…" I squeezed him tighter, sensing that this was hard for him to say. "…But all I did was make things worse… Make you worry…"

"…It's not your fault…" He stiffened at my voice. "I've been feeling awful since before that…"

"Not like this… Not ready to die…"

"That was to protect Whiteback and Ratbat. Not because you left." Barricade was still for a moment, then he released me and sat back on his heels. He stared at the ground. I realized with a shock that he was crying. _Him, cry? Oh hell, he's hurting…_ "Barricade… Nobody's dead… That's the important thing…" He wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'm right here; I'm fine." I awkwardly reached out and patted his shoulder. He didn't move. I left my hand there and turned to the Wolfdog that had an expression of faded horror on his face. _Hey… Alabaster, look…_

_No! You put yourself in danger coming here; how could you have gone without me? I look after you, Mirr!_

_It was a personal mission. Whiteback and I had been planning it for a while. Writhe's condition was something that I just couldn't… think about… with anyone other than Whiteback. And Glint, the poor kid… He must be panicking. Don't tell him I almost died until later; he's traumatized enough. _Alabaster frowned at me with his eyes for a moment, and then sighed reluctantly. 

_I… I understand. It would've been the same with my brother. _

_…Thank you Alabaster. _I turned my attention to Whiteback, who only nodded to me and flashed a grin. He'd been through worse. Barricade shuddered next to me. I patted him again.

"…I'm so sorry Mirr… …so sorry…"

"It's okay… And I'm the one who should be sorry… I gave you all such a scare…" I found myself hugged again. I wasn't used to touching people all the time, but this wasn't as uncomfortable as I'd thought. I rested my chin on the Officer's shoulder.

"Just… don't do that again. Please, or I swear I'll fucking put a bullet through my head."

"I have no desire to go through that again, believe me," I said earnestly. Barricade let me go and tried to discreetly clear any evidence of crying from his face. I turned to Soundwave. "A deal's a deal. You help Writhe, I tell you what I can about Ratbat."

"The phrase was, 'help [us] find Ratbat'," grumbled the bird. I glared darkly at him.

"Oh so you're the little mo-fo eh? Well I've got my dog with me this time. Just _try_ to intimidate me."

"We can always just let him die," he said, gesturing with a talon at Writhe's limp form on the floor.

"What's with you? How come you're the only one doing the talking?" Soundwave interrupted.

"It is… painful… for me to speak. Laserbeak will talk… Though he is being… what is the word… blunt." His voice sounded like it'd been to Hell and back. In fact, the rest of him wasn't much better. He was literally covered in wounds, the worst of which were on his right arm and face.

"How were you injured?" He gestured at the bird in answer.

"When he escaped from where he was captured, one of the guards sent a symbiont after him; a polar bear. He managed to escape alive, but only just." I nodded. I could see the stiffness and discomfort with which my fellow Psychi moved; it seemed like he would be almost unable to get up. All of us remained content at floor level, however, so it wasn't a major concern at the moment.

"Okay. So what do you want to know about Ratbat?"

"We'd like your help locating him." I mentally sighed and Whiteback and Alabaster echoed me. This was going to be an entirely new adventure.

"Okay, I'll help—or we'll help is probably more accurate. Whiteback and Writhe know his energy signature and they can link it to Alabaster and Glint. But this might take time; it took us weeks just to find you." Soundwave nodded slowly. "In the meantime, you ought to get some professional medical care; you're going to get some serious infections if you don't." This idea didn't go over well. Soundwave shook his head.

"They'll know who he is."

"Who will?"

"The staff. If he walks into one of those places it's over."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Does anything in life make sense?"

"It does if you understand it." The bird exchanged a glance with his carrier. I knew that glance; it was the 'should I tell her?' glance. It annoyed me worse than mosquito bites.

"…All right. There's this group called the Black Tag going around killing carriers, and they've got people in nearly every hospital…"

"Oh… that totally explains some stuff…"

"Huh?"

"Writhe fell into a coma when Black Tag went after Barricade."

"You know Black Tag?"

"Um, yeah, you could say that."

"Sensing an unfinished story."

"You have no idea." I explained the details of Barricade's connections to Arbado and Gilwin, and the rest of the story regarding Ratbat, Ravage, Glint, Kyre and Sandstriker. By the time I'd finished, Soundwave was looking rather grim and Laserbeak was almost impressed. Almost.

"Damn. So they want all of you dead, don't they?"

"That's putting it simply."

"Huh, and we thought we were screwed." I laughed.

"Okay, so now you know how we know you. Can you see what you can do for Writhe?" In answer Soundwave gently picked up the snake's limp form and gestured that I come over to him. He put his fingers on the back of Writhe's head, right next to where it met the neck.

"Put your fingers here…" he rasped. I did as I was told. "Go ahead… and enter his consciousness… Not through his link… through his nervous system… I will follow…" I gripped the strange piece of psychic energy that was Writhe's inner impulses and let my own mind follow the trail. It became steadily darker until I felt as if I was dangling over a chasm.

_Is this how Soundwave and his symbiont felt when they went after me? _

_Yes,_ was the answer as I felt Soundwave's mental presence materialize beside me, _except that in the nether there is much stronger suction; it feels as if gravity is crushing one's self. This is merely a coma; not quite so powerful. They both have hypnotic capabilities, however. This is how you became so focused on protecting your symbiont; the nether and comas bring out your most unconscious needs. For us it is to protect our charges. For someone like your friend, it would be to protect those close to them… like you. _I was too curious about all this to not ask the question that popped into my head.

_And addictions? _

_Are not powerful enough to materialize. This part of the mind is solely one's most basic personality. Now, call one of your symbionts. _I glanced back and sensed a long way to any of their links.

_It's so far…_

_They must reach for you first. Are any prodding at you? _I was a little nervous; Whiteback and Alabaster were giving me space because they knew what was going on… But Glint didn't.

_One… But he's very young and inexperienced. _

_Then you may learn together. Call him._ I reached out for Glint's mind and found it fluttering madly around where I had dissipated.

_Here; come with me. _

_Mirr? Is that you? I was afraid you'd… you'd…_

_I'm fine; don't worry about it. Right now an older carrier wants to show us how to break comas; come on, it's okay. _

_…All right._ Glint followed me hesitantly back to Writhe's mind. _Where is this?_

_Writhe's head. Can you sense Soundwave? _

_Yes… just off to your right. _

_Good. Listen. _Soundwave had waited patiently for us to return.

_Welcome young one. _Glint shared his strong sense of respect with the other carrier and Soundwave continued. _Only a symbiont is capable of venturing deep into the unconscious; our presences are too powerful; they can tear a mind apart. Glint must be the one to search out Writhe. _

_Wh… what? Me? But I don't know anything about…_

_That is irrelevant. _

_How am I supposed to…?_

_It is somewhat instinctual. As a symbiont you are curious by nature; you will know how to find him._ I felt Glint hesitate, and then give in. I could sense his determination to prove himself.

_All right, I'll do it._

_Good. You may now move deeper._ As Glint pressed on into where I could not venture, Soundwave turned to me. _And you—Mirr was it?—must keep a close link with him, lest he fall too far. He will draw on your energy to move around._

_Okay._ I felt Glint's mind casting back and forth, searching. _He'll be way at the bottom, Glint. That's where I was. But don't land, just hover._ I sensed his acknowledgement. Minutes passed. Somehow my focus remained. Finally I was able to pick up a transmitted question. Glint was deep, very deep.

_Is he normally so angry? _I laughed.

_Yes; does he need proof that you're with me? _

_Yes._

_Tell him I still have the bite scar on my ankle. And he never apologized._

_Okay._ There was a pause. _Mirr, he says he'll come with me. Now what? _I turned to Soundwave.

_He found him. How does he bring him to us? _

_He has to lift him back to us. Laserbeak describes the feeling as carrying a package. He will use your energy however, so be ready._ I relayed the information back to Glint and I felt him moving toward us. I began to feel dizzy.

_Not so fast! It's too much energy!_ He slowed and I felt his sheepishness. _It's okay. I really don't know what to expect either. This is my first time too. _

Glint finally made it up to us. I reached out carefully and took hold of his presence and Writhe's, the latter of which was vibrating frantically. He did not speak to me.

_This is the challenging stage,_ informed Soundwave, _the painful part. It will not be as strong to you, as you were not deep and this is not the nether, but he has been here a few weeks; it will be extremely hard for him to hang on. He will most likely be asleep when we return; this is normal. It is very draining for him. The only reason you were able to regain consciousness immediately was the pain from your friend's grip on your arm. _

_That was Barricade?_

_Do not lose your focus._

_Okay, later. So I just turn around? _

_Yes. But be careful; you're liable to lose him. It will be easier if you send your symbiont ahead._ I let Glint go and he flew off back to his body. I then started carefully backtracking. _I will stay behind you; I cannot catch him if he falls, but I can slow him enough so that you can,_ Soundwave thought to me. I shared my thanks with him. He seemed a bit amused by them. I reached about what I took to be halfway and I could sense Writhe was hurting. I knew the energy required to send words or phrases would shock him, so I only shared an emotion; determination. He faintly replied affirmatively.

_Can I share my energy with him through his link?_

_Not at this point._ I continued on my slow and steady path.

_We're almost at the end!_

_Yes; you have done well thus far._ I finally reached the conscious world and carefully yet swiftly jerked Writhe through. Soundwave vanished. Writhe's link reactivated in my mind and I felt a thrill brush me.

_He's back… He's really back…_

I fought the urge to wake him; he needed sleep, I told myself. Finally satisfied, I shivered as I returned to my own conscious mind. Barricade had moved over so that he was next to me, no doubt worried I'd fall into the nether again. He was visibly relieved when he saw I was awake.

"Did you get him?" my friend asked quietly. I nodded.

"He'll be asleep for a while though. But he's okay now."

"Good." I turned to Soundwave.

"Thank you. I'll see what I can do in terms of Ratbat, and in terms of finding some sort of help for you yourself; I know a registered nurse." Soundwave was still for a moment, and then slowly nodded.

"We appreciate your concern," said Laserbeak. Then we knew it was time to go.

"We'll stay in touch; I'll send Glint or something."

"He ought to meet me somewhere else, so we don't attract attention here," suggested Laserbeak. Barricade fidgeted.

"Would an Officer's car draw attention?"

"Not if it looks like you came here for her," said the vulture, gesturing at me.

"Where did _you_ get an Officer's car?" I asked, amused.

"Ah, you have a fan." I rolled my eyes and smiled.

"Whatever. Okay, you drag me back to the car and I scream and try to run away, then you put me in the back with Alabaster and drive away with the lights and siren on, like I've gotten arrested or something." Barricade nodded.

"All right."

"I will warn you; I'm a convincing actress," I purred smugly. "I _will_ actually try to get free. So you have to make sure you don't let go of me. And if you do you have to chase me like you would any suspect." Barricade shook his head.

"Are you sure that's necessary?"

"No, but it'll be funny. And we can scare the crap out of my 'fan' while we're at it." Barricade huffed, but I caught the hint of a snicker.

"The way I left him it'll definitely freak him out." I clapped my hands.

"Then why are we still here? Let's go!" I stood up and so did Barricade. Soundwave didn't move. "Need a hand?" I asked, remembering his injuries. After a moment's hesitation he nodded and Barricade and I hauled him to his feet. He nodded to us and staggered stiffly off to the entrance to another room. I watched him for a moment, then placed Writhe around my neck and trotted after Barricade and my symbionts. We halted before the exit and prepared to put our dramatic acting skills to the test. This would be interesting.


	7. Chapter 6 not finished but some closure

WHOOPS SORRY THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS. HAVE SOME FOLLOW UP FOR WRITHE'S RETURN (i LOVe yOU wRIthE BabU!) AND A LITTLE MORE EMO BUT BEWARE ITS A CLIFFHANGER

NUUUU SHIPPING GO TAKE YER DIRTY MINDS SOMEWHERE ELSE GODDDDDD I MEAN I LEGIT DONT KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WITH COLDBY AND MIRR THEY'RE GOOD FRIENDS BUT I DONT THINK I INTENDED MORE THAN THAT WHEN i WROTE THEM THEY'RE BOTH TOO INNOCENT DAMMIT AND NEITHER IS INTERESTED IN ANY OF THAT SO DONT SHIP THEM

i WILL HOPEFULLY POST AN OUTLINE OF THE REST OF THE STORY JUST SO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS MAYBE SOMEONE ELSE CAN FINISH IT BUT DON'T FORGET THE SARCASM THIS STORY EXISTS BECAUSE SARCASM.

Chapter 6

Coldby was sitting quietly in the car (the driver's seat this time) when he saw us; I recognized him from the hospital. I was trying really hard not to laugh. The rain felt good and I was back with my friends. I was inconceivably happy. I twisted and screeched, attempting to escape the iron grip that Barricade had on my arm. By the time we'd reached the car he was literally dragging me. I heard the door open and I was pushed quite forcefully into the backseat. Alabaster leapt in next to me and Barricade slammed the door. I gave Coldby the death-stare through the rearview mirror. He looked spooked. Barricade got into the passenger seat and growled to Coldby that he should start driving _now_. As soon as we passed the end of the block I perked up and leaned on Barricade's seat.

"So, this is my fan?" Coldby almost hit a trashcan. I decided I was bothering him too much and sat back. "What does he want with a carrier?"

"Weren't you just screaming and trying to run away?"

"Yup. Pretty convincing huh?"

"I don't follow this _at all_."

"We were making a scene so that nobody would know about Soundwave."

"…sure."

"You're gonna hit that old lady if you don't slow down, leadfoot."

"_Me_ a leadfoot? Shit, you should've seen him drive." He jabbed a finger and Barricade.

"You can drive?" I hadn't known that about my friend. Not many people learned anymore because there were so few cars.

"A little bit." He seemed smug. "This cruiser is nice though; better than what we had back where I worked."

"What did you have there?"

"Me? Nothing. The Captain and Lieutenant got cars and the rest of us piled into vans like an army unit. And a lot of the guys didn't shower."

"Eww."

"_Oh_ yeah."

"So what did you do about it?"

"What do you think; I got there as fast as I damn well could and went for a window seat." I laughed. Coldby was still confused.

"Eyes on the road."

"Yeah, sorry…"

"Hey, we'll explain when we get to Maximum's house, awright?"

"Maximum? You mean the nurse who was with you before? Ah, I should've known he was involved in all of this…"

"Red light!" Coldby slammed on the brakes. "Jesus man, I told you, we'll explain when we get there."

"Where does he live?"

"Right by where you were eavesdropping on me and the dog," growled Barricade.

"Sure…"

"Nice signal—not! You are one distracted driver."

"Hey, you all pulled a prank…"

"It wasn't a prank, it was a diversion, and it's _you_ who won't let it go. I keep telling you, we'll talk about it at Maximum's."

"How about all of you shut up," grumbled Alabaster. The rest of the drive was nearly soundless.

When we went up the walk to the door Kiya immediately started lecturing me.

"Where you have been? You know it dangerous alone outside! Why you not telling us you be gone so long? You is in trouble now?" She noticed Barricade for the first time: his officer's jacket had allowed him to blend in with Coldby. "And _you_," she jabbed her index finger at him, "You know how worried you is making her? Why you leaving? You is _very _stupid!" Barricade only looked down.

"Look, Kiya, could you let us explain inside? It's a rather long story." She sighed.

"Yes, of course." Her English returned to normal. She looked at Coldby. "Are they in some kind of trouble?" Coldby shrugged.

"He wants an explanation too, Kiya. He's a friend of Barricade's." Kiya nodded.

"Oh. Well come in, it's raining." Coldby dipped his head and stepped over the threshold. Kiya closed the door behind him. "Shoes go there," she said, frowning at Barricade who was still wearing his and was already in the middle of the living room. The ex-soldier glanced sheepishly at his feet. I shoved him playfully.

"Yeah, Barricade, quit tracking water all over the rug." He nudged me back, a hint of a smile gleaming behind his eyes.

We told the whole story over coffee. I honestly hated how it tasted, but I put up with it because I was exhausted and it gave me some energy. We explained to Coldby what had really happened in the hospital. Maximum said that he and Shockwave would investigate for any possible Black Tag agents still crawling around there, and that he was very willing to help Soundwave if we could get him here. I had a great idea.

"He could hide out in the attic! We all could; like a secret organization or something like that! Against Black Tag!" Barricade snorted.

"Hell, half of us are ex-militaries anyway. And from what I've gathered we're fucked any way you spin it, so why not give 'em a piece of our minds?" He looked at Maximum. "But it's your house…"

"Nonsense. This no is house. This is shelter." I laughed. He'd meant it in a good way; as in shelter for anyone in trouble. But it sounded funny because if one thought about it, the place was turning into a bit of a homeless person and animal shelter. Kiya smiled.

"I don't know much about these "Taggers", but nobody will harm anyone under this roof." I grinned at her in thanks.

"Now we just need a kickass name," said Whiteback maniacally, "like The Vengeance or something."

"No." Alabaster was shaking his head. "I was thinking something more… sinister. Less proud and bold because we're not about that, are we? We're quiet about our work, or at least we try to be. Underground. Not silent, but soft, quiet…"

"Mirr," said Glint suddenly, "I asked my father when I was very little what made Sandstriker different from all the other humans. He said it was the strange powers Sandstriker had. How with just a whisper in his head he could kill men, he could change men, hypnotize them, fight them, save them... All with just a whisper…" A shock of cold hit me and dribbled down through my chest as I thought of Kyre. _He's here, here in the heart of this tiny band we're forming. He's here in Glint, but he's here in me too… And… I'm the base of this entire situation, aren't I? Nobody here would likely have met had I not been here. Barricade would be dead. Ratbat would be dead. Glint would be all alone. Coldby would never have spoken to Maximum and Kiya. So really… If Kyre is in me… and we're here because of me…_

"…Kyre's Whisper." A thick silence fell over the room. The phrase held a power over us all, mesmerized us. "We are the fulfillment of Kyre's last whisper."

"What…? Wasn't the last thing he said "thank you"?" asked Whiteback.

"No. He said something more to me. It was personal; you wouldn't understand it, but this group we've started… It fulfills it, in a way." No one spoke for a moment.

"…I'm for it." The voice was Whiteback's.

"…Yes," said Alabaster, "I agree."

"It makes sense based on what you told me," said Coldby. "This Kyre seems to be at the heart of everything. Didn't you run away because of him?" he asked me. I nodded. "And that was where the story started, wasn't it?"

"It is great name. Very fitting," said Maximum with a slight smile.

"I believe it is good to pay our respect to Kyre. I did not know him, but he seems to be very important to us," Kiya added.

"…I think my father would have been proud that we named ourselves after him," said Glint. We all turned to Barricade. He inclined his head to me.

"The name could've been Motherfuckers for all I care. I'm here because I'll fight."

We agreed that the first official meeting of Kyre's Whisper would be later in the week. In the meantime, I wasted no time in starting to clean out the attic. There was some weird stuff up there, stuff that had belonged to the person who owned the house before Maximum and Kiya had. I just got rid of most of it.

Barricade was becoming antsy; I'd hear him talking to himself late at night when he thought everyone was asleep. I couldn't make out the words, but I didn't really have to; I was aware of the symptoms of withdrawal. During the day he tried to be amiable, but he'd turn sharp and dark in a heartbeat. I decided to provide a distraction for him. I found him sitting at the dining room table frantically taking a pen apart and putting it back together again.

"Hey." He looked up.

"Can I help you?" he grumbled somewhat shrilly.

"Yes, actually."

"With what?"

"Fixing the attic. I can't move the rug all by myself. I'm too… little." He sighed.

"All right, show me." I led him to the base of the stairs to the attic. There was a ladder and that was how most people assumed one would get there, but that actually lead to the crawlspace and what appeared to be a closet was actually the entrance to the attic. "What sort of rug are we dealing with?" I shook my head.

"You've seen some of the wacko stuff I've dragged out of there. This rug is no different."

"You didn't answer my question." By then I was already up the stairs.

"It's right here." Barricade ducked his head slightly as he entered the attic. The both of us just stared at the rug for a long time.

"…It's… different," said Barricade finally.

"_No, _really?" The rug had a picture of a gazelle on it, and pieces of bear hide sewed into the edges: Whiteback had identified the fur for me via scent. The carpet was nearly the length of the entire attic, which was saying something. "I know it sounds stupid, but… I'm honestly afraid to touch it. What if it's… cursed or something?" Barricade laughed wryly.

"_You?_ Afraid of _curses?_ It doesn't get more cursed than you."

"Hey, be nice." He snorted and took hold of one edge.

"Grab that side there." I did as he said… reluctantly. "It's not going to bite." We managed to roll up the rug. "Okay, now we can push it over to the stairs…"

I don't know what Maximum was doing before the thumping started, but he came up the stairs very quickly once it did.

"What you doing?" Barricade and I halted. We'd been moving the rug down the attic stairs. It took the both of us to move it, so I had been handling the back end. I wasn't strong enough to lift it, so it kept hitting the stairs.

"Getting rid of the rug."

"Oh. _That_ rug. Please, keep going." He moved out of the way and gestured extravagantly at the second floor landing.

"This thing smells funny," I complained to Barricade once we'd gotten the rug onto the landing. He sniffed at it.

"Oh yeah, definitely."

"That end can't possibly smell as bad as _this_ end. Here, you don't even have to sniff it…" Barricade came over and then abruptly covered his nose.

"Aww, that stinks worse than shit! What part of the bear _is_ that?"

"Do you honestly want to know?"

"On second thought…"

We both moved to the other end of the rug partly because of the awful smell and partly because I wasn't having any luck lifting my end anyway. I suddenly realized something. The staircase ahead was straight.

"Barricade, stop!" He looked blankly at me. "We can just push it down!" Barricade examined the area, and then a wicked grin spread across his face.

"Better idea. We use it as a toboggan sled." I laughed.

"Yeah! Hey Whiteback, c'mere!" The opossum was ambling out of my second-floor room. Barricade was standing behind the rolled-up rug and I was already sitting on it. Whiteback took one look and rocketed over to me.

"Fuck yeah!"

"Ready?" asked Barricade.

"Go!" shouted Whiteback and Barricade gave the rug a shove and leapt onto it behind me. The rug shuddered and then slowly and painfully choked its way down the stairs, unrolling the whole time. Whiteback, Barricade and I inevitably ended up in a variety of awkward positions at the foot of the stairs. "I can't feel my tail," said Whiteback.

"Oww, my arm," I grumbled.

"Which part of me _is_ my arm?" Barricade asked into the rug. He was face-flat and half of him was still on the stairs. Whiteback and I took one look at him and burst out laughing. The Officer rolled over and joined us, and we just lay there laughing uncontrollably until Kiya showed up.

"Mirr! Barricade! What are you _doing_?" We just laughed harder. She eventually rolled her eyes and left us like that. Maximum was smiling amusedly at us from the landing above. I waved at him.

Later that evening I noticed that Barricade had retreated to his room. My curiosity took hold again, along with a slight touch of worry, and I went to the door and knocked.

"Hey, can we talk?" There was a pause.

"What about?"

"You." I wasn't going to try to dodge the question. It was useless anyway; he could read me like a newspaper ad.

"Me?"

"Yeah." I heard him sigh.

"C'mon in." I nudged the door open. Barricade was lying on his back on his bed staring at the ceiling. "Go ahead, talk."

"Listen, I need an honest answer. Are you doing okay?" He shivered. "Because you look terrible."

"I… I've been better."

"Thought so." I pulled a chair over so that I was facing him. "Look, I know you have your unspoken "rules" about asking for help and/or accepting help, and that one of said rules is to never bother me with anything, but honestly Barricade, you're my best friend. I'm not just gonna be like "oh, he says he's all right, so nothing must be wrong". No! I'm somebody who looks out for you just as much as you look out for me. And I know that life kinda sucks for you right now, and… I really want to be able to find a way to make it not suck so much. Okay?" He didn't say anything. "So don't isolate yourself. I can take your crankiness, I promise." He sat up.

"Mirr, I… thank you." I smiled.

"It's no trouble, I assure you. Do you wanna play cards or something?"

"…Alright." I stood up.

"Okay, I'll go ask Maximum where he keeps the cards." The Officer nodded.

Maximum simply handed me a deck of cards as soon as I asked. He was always somehow aware of everything that went on in everybody's life. But it was almost in a way pleasant, because he was rather passive about it, and didn't do anything about it unless he was prompted. I went back down the hall to Barricade's room.

"Do you even know any real card games?" he asked bluntly as I stepped into the room.

"Not really," I said sheepishly. He rolled his eyes.

"Not even one."

"Nope." He settled himself cross-legged on the floor.

"Sit." I obeyed and plunked down across from him. "Now, unless you want this to turn into an epic "go fish" competition, watch and learn." He took the deck of cards and started arranging them. Absentmindedly he tossed two cards to the side. "Jokers," he grunted in explanation. I wasn't quite sure what that meant.

"What game is this?"

"The soldier's version of Gin Rummy," said Barricade with a hint of a smile.

"Never heard of it."

"That's 'cause you were too busy growing up and not getting your ass shot at, which is a good thing," he huffed. "Now anyway, I don't know how the damn game is _normally_ played, but this is the way I was taught: see the four piles? You get ten cards, and you either match them by color, symbol or number. You can put down any number per turn, but if you don't have any matches, then you have to draw as many as I put down last. Oh, and if you have, say, a ten, and there's a seven and a three in that pile, then you can put the ten there. And you can subtract too, so like if I put a six on top of the ten then you can get rid of your four. Anyway, whoever gets rid of all their cards first wins. Here." He shoved a pile of cards at me. "Take your ten cards. You go first."

Quite obviously, Barricade won the first game, but I developed an understanding.

"Can we try it again? I think I've got it now." The ex-soldier laughed.

"Sure." We played three more games, of which I won the last.

"Victory!" I yelled at the ceiling, and I curled my fingers in front of me maniacally. Barricade shook his head. Kiya was drawn to all the ruckus.

"Mirr, Barricade, what's going on here?" I grinned and waved the stack of cards that held the last one that I'd been holding.

"I won!" Kiya looked a little bored by this.

"I see." She turned around and left.

"Geez, what's with her?" Barricade shrugged and then put his hand out for the cards I was holding. I gave them to him and he shuffled them into the rest of the deck. But before he dealt the cards, he paused.

"Mirr, I know you explained to Kiya, Max and me that you're going to help Soundwave."

"Yeah."

"But I have to ask you… Have you thought this through? What sort of danger it entails?"

"A little. But I'm really not scared."

"I wasn't asking if you were scared. I… do you know where this is going to take you?"

"No. But I didn't know where the search for Soundwave would take me either."

"I understand that but…" I was a little uncomfortable. What was he getting at?

"I could see why you wouldn't trust Soundwave, if that's what's bothering you."

"No, not that. It's just… you said that _you_ were going to help Soundwave find Ratbat… That's not really something that Kyre's Whisper would work on…"

"You lost me." He sighed. "I mean, are you asking me something or just… I don't even know."

"You… implied that you'd be working alone."

"I mean, nobody _has_ to help. It's gonna be a hard job. I'm capable of doing it mostly alone, and if you aren't interested in investing your time into it…"

"No, no… That's not what I meant at all…"

"What did you mean?" He inhaled sharply.

"I wanted to know if you'd let me come with you. Work on this with you." I laughed.

"That's it?" He looked rather sheepishly at the floor. "Barricade, look at me." He obeyed. "Why would I tell you no? I would be ecstatic if you teamed up with me." A relieved smile spread across my friend's face.

"Mirr, I… I feel like I've screwed up really badly every other time I've tried to do anything for you… I wanted to fix that."

"You didn't screw up. You just didn't know what to do." He frowned. I crawled over to him. "Come on, don't sweat it. We've got bigger things to worry about then what's already happened." I gave him a hug. The clock on the bedside table stated that it was after eleven. "It's getting late," I said, "I'm gonna go hit the sack. Figure you should to; we have to start moving things _into_ the attic tomorrow, and I figure going _up_ the stairs with a rug is going to be a lot trickier than going _down_ the stairs with one." Barricade nodded.

"Alright. Here, take the cards back to Max."

"Sure." I grabbed the deck and trotted to Maximum's office. He'd already gone, but there was a piece of paper that read "cards go in second drawer." I put them away and went to bed.

Something cold and smooth woke me the next morning. The first thing I registered was a pair of glittering blue eyes staring at me. A wild grin crawled onto my face. Writhe had exchanged emotions and scattered words with me during the past few days, but he hadn't moved and he'd kept his eyes closed. Apparently today he was feeling better.

"Hey," I said, not sitting up because the black-and-white snake was resting on my chest. He didn't smile, but I felt his satisfaction with himself.

"Mirr," he said, dipping his head to me, as if we'd just met after a long time of being apart. Which, I realized, wasn't far from the truth.

"Welcome back." He nodded.

"Did anything profound happen in my absence?"

"Yeah, quite a lot actually. I can tell you out loud or just let you surf Whiteback's memories." All symbionts had uniquely detailed memories; they were like pages of a book that you could read over and over again, or like video clips stored in a computer. Whiteback's memories would be far easier for Writhe to interpret than my own. The snake suddenly looked pensive.

"You have two new symbionts." I nodded. "Where is Ratbat?"

"That's our current mission. And here," I said, finding Whiteback's consciousness and demanding that he fork over his photographic memories. He willingly obliged, and informed me that he was on his way up the stairs from the kitchen. I gave the memories to Writhe for him to sift through. He scanned them rather quickly, and then I felt him carefully slipping through my own, despite how muddled and innacurate they were.

"Barricade… he's caused you quite a bit of pain, hasn't he?" the snake mused. I huffed.

"Don't be so harsh, Writhe, you've been the source of quite a lot of stress yourself."

"For that, I apologize," he said, lowering his head in something akin to shame.

"I'm just glad to have you back," I responded. Slipping past my shoulder, the snake coiled himself around my neck like he always did, and I sat up and stretched. Whiteback ambled into the room. He addressed the krait.

"Hey man, good to see ya."

"Whiteback, ever the optimist. Do you comprehend the situation? Ratbat and Ravage have almost undoubtedly been captured, and they may well be dead. This is very grave."

"You, always a pessimist. Ease up, we've got two new helpers. We'll find the cat and the bat." Writhe didn't look so sure. I didn't want to take the snake off of my neck, but I had to change out of my pajamas.

"You boys think you could let me put on something other than P.J.'s?" Writhe slipped down my arm and sprang to the floor.

"Of course. We'll take our leave." The two vanished onto the landing, no doubt to do some catching up that memories couldn't quite mimic. I put on some decent clothes (a t-shirt, jeans and my jacket) and ruffled the two inches of hair that I had so that it looked erratic. Then I headed downstairs and into the living room. Good thing too, because Coldby was standing outside and looking in the window. Everybody else, I realized, must've been in the kitchen, which was at the very back of the house. They must not have noticed him, especially because the doorbell didn't work. I went over and opened the door.

"'Morning Officer." It felt strange to say that without any fear in my voice. Coldby laughed.

"I'm off-duty today, and out of uniform. You don't have to use my title."

"Okay. Well, I figure everybody's at the back of the house, so come on in." He stepped gingerly through the door.

"Strange to be back here again; I dunno, I've never been part of an underground organization before," he muttered. I nodded.

"Bet it's strange to be around a carrier too, huh. Everybody I've met is a little uncomfortable at first," I said. But Coldby shook his head.

"Not really. You seem just as normal of a person as myself." I laughed.

"That's because you don't hear the voices in my head." Coldby tilted his head at me.

"Voices?"

"My symbionts. I don't just talk to them out loud you know. We could have a full conversation and nobody would know it. Nobody would even know they were there at all if they were in their chell."

"Bet it's handy when you want somebody to bounce ideas off of."

"Yeah, it is." I suddenly turned to look at him, rather thunderstruck.

"Something wrong?"

"You just… you just talked about being a carrier like it was a good thing."

"Well it is, in some ways." I shook my head.

"You're not… unnerved… by me?"

"Not particularly, no." I was a little surprised, to say the least.

"Oh, well, okay I guess." I led him to the kitchen. Maximum was sipping his coffee across from Kiya, and Barricade was talking to Alabaster. Coldby hung back behind me, a little nervous. "Guys, Mr. Coldby's here." They all looked up.

"Good morning," the man said sheepishly. I went and sat next to Barricade. Coldby settled across from the two of us. "When is the meeting officially starting?" he asked. He was a little giddy, I realized. This was something new for him and he was eager to be a part of it.

"We have to wait for Shockwave to get here," answered Glint, who lighted on the counter next to Coldby. The young man looked up at the bird's voice.

"Oh, hello Glint," he said, smiling. I remembered that Glint had spent a considerable amount of time alone with Coldby, so it didn't surprise me that Coldby was appreciative of the bird's presence. He was glad to have somebody with whom he was properly acquainted nearby.

"And yes," I added, "everybody who you saw get out of the elevator in the hospital is "involved" as you put it." Coldby laughed.

"Why am I not surprised?" He put out his hand. "I don't think we were ever introduced. I'm David Coldby. People usually call me Dave or just Coldby. And yourself?" I shook his hand.

"I'm Mirr, short for Mirror. I haven't got a second name. People usually call me "girl" or "bitch" or "carrier", but I prefer my name thank you very much." Barricade chuckled.

"And you kinda know me already, Dave. My given name is Bartholomew Varsec, but don't _ever _let me catch you calling me that, understand? It's Barricade."

"Why, is something wrong with Bartholomew?" asked Coldby, his eyes sparkling. I snickered. I'd completely forgotten that that was the name on the veteran's I.D. His nickname had been in quotes, so Whiteback and I had simply called him that. But the more that I thought about it, the less it seemed to suit my friend.

"I like my nickname better," huffed Barricade. "I earned it on the battlefield."

"Yeah, but wouldn't that be something you'd just use with your fellow soldiers; like an inside joke or something? I mean, why don't you still go by Bartholomew around civilians?" Barricade glared at Coldby.

"Because it's just so _dorky_!" I giggled. I felt a sharp pain in my ribs and knew that Barricade had elbowed me.

"Cut it out!" he growled. I grinned. Barricade gave one last grumble and put his head down on his arms. My smile faded.

"Look, Barricade, I didn't mean to offend you." No response. Coldby looked embarrassed. Shockwave chose then to materialize, his looming form casting a long shadow over us.

"David," said the Agili scientist silkily, nodding to Coldby. Coldby seemed a little spooked, but he nodded back.

"You must be Shockwave."

"Solomon Zil originally. I, like Barricade, was given my name in combat." Barricade didn't move at the mention of his name. Shockwave dipped his head to me.

"Child," he said. I didn't know how to respond to that. Technically, I was a legal adult. "And Barricade; not looking much better than the last time I saw him, it seems." I frowned at Shockwave.

"He's having a bad day, that's all."

"Is it?"

"Yes." The Agili nodded slowly and moved fluidly away to talk to Maximum. I glared after him. _He's so __**creepy**__ sometimes! Ugh…_

_Not to mention generally unpleasant, _Whiteback added sourly. The opossum and his companion were listening from the hallway. _He makes Writhe look like a jolly fellow._

_I __**can**__ hear you, Whiteback,_ thought the snake.

_I know, and even you can agree that the man is unnerving._

_He is rather cryptic. _

_"Cryptic" doesn't even come close._

_Quit it you two, I don't want to have to deal with an argument right now. It's too early in the day. _I turned back to Coldby. "He's not usually around much," I said of the scientist. The young man nodded.

The meeting consisted of essentially instructions for how we were to operate; Shockwave and Maximum were to keep their ears open for any kind of Tag infiltration of the hospital, and Coldby was to monitor the streets. It was over relatively quickly, and Shockwave was the first to depart. I was just about to head into Maximum's office to use his computer when Coldby caught me by the arm.

"A word please, Mirr?" He muttered in my ear, and I followed him into an empty room.

"Something wrong?"

"I'll admit, I don't know him very well, but is Barricade a little… off… today? He seems unhappy and tired." I sighed.

"He's not well right now, no."

"Do you see him often? I mean, I don't know how well you know him…" I laughed softly.

"He lives here, just like me. I see him every day." Coldby looked a little confused, but then he started nodding.

"Well, that would make sense; he's essentially homeless. Officers don't have separate houses; we live at the barracks. And he's no longer serving, so he doesn't have anywhere to live. He didn't… grow up here, did he? I haven't seen him here before a few weeks ago."

"No, he's not from here, and neither am I."

"No offense, but it's a little obvious; the two of you have accents. It's slight, but noticeable. But you're not from the same city…"

"No, I'm from west of here, he's from east."

"Thought so. How did you two meet each other then? Glint told me you've known Barricade longer than Maximum and Kiya."

"We were imprisoned together for a time. The two of us managed to escape with the help of Ratbat, who I've told you about, and Whiteback and Writhe."

"Writhe would be the snake?"

"Yeah."

"Is he all right? The last I heard, he was in a coma."

"I'm fine, thank you," came the reply. Writhe slipped out from under a cabinet.

"That's good to hear. In any case, I think I should be going; the others get suspicious if I'm gone too long." He turned for the door. But I still had a question.

"Coldby… You're not 21 yet."

"No, not quite. In a few months I will be."

"You drink?" He looked a little shocked by the question.

"I… well… yes, to some extent."

"What made you start?" He sighed.

"Conformity I suppose. Why do you ask?"

"Because of your question about Barricade. I don't want to go through this twice, and I have a feeling that you'll end up one of my allies. I think it'll be easier to fix now than later, especially with what you've signed on for by joining Kyre's Whisper. It's a hard life, pitting yourself against a whole lot of rogue soldiers. It'll put a lot of stress on you." Coldby stared at me.

"…I knew it was bad, but I didn't know it was that bad," he said quietly.

"It?"

"Barricade's… problem."

"You knew?"

"I found him outside a tavern, in a fight with a drug addict." I shivered. "I knew he… I could tell he was definitely a problem child, but… He's really in a bad way right now, isn't he…?"

"Yeah." Coldby looked at me long and hard.

"You're a good person Mirr. Take care of yourself." With that he dipped his head and walked out into the hall. A few seconds passed, and I heard the front door close.

"I dunno Writhe," I said quietly, "something about him makes him really easy to trust." The snake nodded.

"It's the same quality that makes you easy to trust, Mirr."

"And that is?"

"Sincerity."

Barricade was still at the counter. Maximum and Kiya were upstairs talking about something; this was probably the former's attempt to distract the latter. He knew that managing the ex-Officer was my job. I quietly approached my friend.

"…Barricade…?"

"Leave me alone."

"I…"

"Get away from me."

"But…"

"Get away from me!" He whipped around like a cornered animal and part of me cowered in fear at the fury in his voice. But another part, a stronger, bolder part, took control of my left arm and caught the man firmly by the shoulder. He froze, confused. I knew he saw the fear in my eyes, but I figured he also saw my resolve.

"Relax." I didn't know how my voice stayed even, but it did. The ex-Officer wilted.

"…I can't do this…"

"Don't lie to me, and don't lie to yourself. You're a soldier, so stop taking the easy way out. No, not even that; stop _believing_ that there even _is_ an easy way out! There isn't."

"God, Mirr, you don't know…" He grimaced. I softened as I picked up on his anxiety through the twitching nerves of his shoulder.

"No, I don't. I'm not saying I do. But I _do_ know that you're in pain, and you don't know what I would give to take some of it away."

"Damn you… you give too much…" He put his head down. I cracked.

"Jesus Barricade…" I leaned against him and cried. "It hurts all of us, just in different ways. So let's get it over with; all at once, like the stupid old saying about the stupid goddam band-aid! Please!" He moved and I put my own head on my arms, facing away from him. I could taste the salt in my mouth from my tears, and I knew my nose was dribbling too.

"Why do I always make you more upset than anyone else?" asked Barricade, his own voice strained.

"Because you're my _friend_. You don't get it; this is what having a friend means. It means that I care, and if I care, then I'll be upset when you're upset. Do you see now? It's a conscious _choice_. I've _chosen_ to feel for you." There was a short pause as the man contemplated what I'd said.

"Okay… I… I get it now…"

"I just… I just want to know what you consider me to be. You're my best friend, but that doesn't guarantee that I'm your best friend, you know?" There was a pause and then I felt his hand on my shoulder. He squeezed it and I heard him draw a breath.

"Mirr… you're the first person that I've ever considered myself close to. I didn't really have any idea of what a friend really meant… you know when you've heard a word so often that you think you know what it means? But if I consider what you said… then yes, you are very much my friend…. My best friend." The two of us both picked ourselves off of the counter. "Come here." He was awkward about it, but he gave me a hug. Then I held up my right hand as if I were challenging someone to an arm-wrestling match.

"Is everything settled then…?" He hesitated, then clapped his own right hand onto mine.

"Yeah. Settled. And Mirr…" he said, a hint of embarrassment on his face, "don't tell the others that I cried." I smiled.

"I saw nothing of the sort, Barricade."

I didn't sleep well that night. Something kept nagging at the back of my mind. I finally tossed and turned enough that I fell out of bed. It made a rather loud thump, and my funnybone and ribcage throbbed.

"Ow!" I hissed into the dark. "Dammit…" Sleep was impossible, I decided, so I went to go sit in the den, a cozy sunken room at the very back of the house next to the kitchen. It had a huge, single-pane window that looked out on the yard. I shuffled down the stairs and through the hall, my bare feet making soft slapping noises against the floor. As I descended down the four steps into the den, a shadow in the moonlit yard caught me by surprise. I tripped off of the last step in my shock, but my unreliable balance kicked in and somehow I managed to not completely topple over my own limbs. They shadowed creature only watched with a lazy interest. "Holy shit!" I spat quietly; for some reason I had no interest in waking the others. I swished my way over to the window and recognized the form staring back at me all too well. "You?! Ugh, of all the times…" I tried not to crash into anything as I felt my way to the back door and opened it. The creature stalked inside and hopped up to the countertop. "What do _you_ want?" I grumbled.

"So polite. I've been out there in the cold for over an hour."

"You picked such an obvious time to come, and gave us no prior warning." It yawned.

"Too bad. If I'd have told you anything, then perhaps someone would've caught me."

"Pfft. Enough of the pointless arguing. What are you here for? Why were you sent?" The creature wilted a little.

"I wasn't _sent_,girl! I _came_. Soundwave does not realize that I've gone, and I'd rather that he didn't know."

"Why, is something wrong?" I was suddenly all ears.

"Nothing is particularly any _more_ wrong than usual, but I want to get us out of there as soon as this place is able to take us; we're hungry, thirsty and Soundwave is becoming increasingly weak. I fear he will succumb to his wounds." I could hear the note of worry in the vulture's voice. "Time is of the essence, child." Why did everyone call me "child"? I was only two-and-a-half years younger than Coldby and nobody called him "child".

"You may call me Mirr, and I understand. We have been sorting out problems of our own." The bird cocked his head.

"Well. Whenever you think it's safe, send that raven of yours to the highway. I sit up there pretending to look for roadkill when I'm not actually looking for roadkill." He turned to leave, stretching out his wings. Suddenly a pang of guilt hit me.

"Laserbeak, wait." He looked at me, confused.

"'Scuze me?" I carefully moved over to the refrigerator and got out a leftover hamburger.

"I know lammergeyers usually eat bones, but hopefully you're not too picky. Here, eat."

"No… I couldn't…" He was thunderstruck.

"You're thinner than a stick. How can you muster enough strength to fly?" He was eyeing the meat the way a feral dog would.

"I…"

"Just eat it. Please. We have so many leftovers, it'll be good to get rid of some." He looked tiredly at me, and then clawed his way over to the container and swallowed the food whole, like he would a bone. "Better?"

"Tolerable." He nipped at my hand, which I took to mean "thank you", and then fluttered over to the door. I let him outside and he flapped away without a word.

I was able to sleep after that, which made me wonder; had Laserbeak been affecting me? Had he been able to alter my psychic state to forbid sleep without touching me? It was plausible; Soundwave himself was a very skilled carrier, and he had been able to put me unconscious and even into the nether without so much as showing himself, let alone coming into physical contact with me. And this had been when several of his symbionts were missing; I didn't doubt the man's power. It was ones like him, I realized, that frightened people. I was rather small and emotional and a known entity; I behaved very much like a Protos or Nerollynix, the two most common races, most of the time. I wasn't mysterious or powerful. Soundwave, on the other hand, was extremely intimidating; he was tall and thin and he didn't like to show himself, not to mention his lack of speech. But this uncanny means of influencing people without contact… I would have to ask him about that.

When I woke, I felt a great weight on my feet. I looked over and saw Alabaster splayed out at the end of my bed. I smiled. Glint was semi-awake, basically daydreaming, but he turned to look at me when I tapped his link and we both snickered. I managed to free myself from the sleeping Wolfdog, and then I grabbed my clothes and tromped into the bathroom to shower. Once I'd done that, Glint and I headed downstairs and scarfed down some food while I told him about the night's events. It was five in the morning, so I spoke through our link so as not to wake anyone. The raven was surprised by Laserbeak's appearance.

_But Mirr, how did he know how to find us?_

_He's one of Soundwave's, Glint, it doesn't surprise me that he could. _

_But… I mean… __**how?**__ I can't even __**think**__ of how he could do that. _

_I don't know either Glint. We'll have to ask him next time we encounter him. I think he's more powerful than usual, because Sandstriker didn't seem to function any differently than me, did he? _

_No, you dealt with your links in a very similar manner. And I don't think he even knew what the nether was. _It made me wonder who had mentored the two of us. Clearly they hadn't been experienced—or they hadn't wanted us to know what we were capable of. It made sense the more I thought about it; if they were so afraid of us, they wouldn't want us to recognize our true potential and then achieve it...

_I'll have to ask Alabaster about it when he gets_ _up; he could tell me if Cole and Gauge and him were able to do what Soundwave and Laserbeak are. _

_He's a little scary, Mirr. _

_Who, Alabaster? _

_No, Soundwave. _I chuckled.

_I know who you meant, and yeah, he is. The most important thing to remember though, is he's a mortal human, just like me. _

_Mirr, I sometimes hear you thinking about humans, about the races. Why? _I smiled and patted his head.

_Because a long time ago, every one of the races was considered one. We were humanity. Now we've got Nerollynix and Agili and Psychi…_

_But the races __**are**__ different._

_Yes, they are. But we're still all human. Still all mortal. People have lost sight of that. _Glint pondered what I had said.

_You want to be treated like the other races?_

_Yes. I want respect, not fear. And I want Protos to be treated like the marked races. They're just as great as the rest of us. _

_But at the same time, you want to be a carrier. Doesn't that make you more powerful? _

_It makes me an individual. People start judging based on ability, and then they start to forget that being a carrier just means that I have a talent, like somebody who's a dancer or an artist or an athlete or a genius. There's a place for every talent out there, and I want to develop mine and see if I can put it to good use. And by good use I mean for the good of humanity. _Glint suddenly looked at me, and I could sense his consciousness smiling.

_I know what you mean now. It has to be somewhere in between. They can't fear you, but at the same time they can't try to force you to be normal. It's exactly like you said; they have to respect you, accept you—and me and the others—for what we are. _I was ecstatic that someone had finally gotten it. Nobody that I'd talked to seemed to understand.

_Yes Glint. You hit it right on the head. _I gently hugged him.

_You're upset, Mirr. _

_A little. _

_You don't have to worry about me; I can handle it. Like what you told Barricade about yourself. You don't have to shelter me. _I smiled sadly at the raven.

_You're right. I should've put more faith in you, and I'm sorry. _

_Don't be sorry. Just don't hide it anymore. _

_I won't, I promise. Now, do you want to help me work on the attic? _The bird flicked his wings excitedly.

_Yeah!_ I laughed.

_Then let's go!_ We trotted up the stairs and unlocked the door to the attic. Nearly tripping over our own feet (and wings), we rocketed up the stairs and started brainstorming. We could talk out loud up there because Shockwave had installed soundproof insulation that he'd engineered himself in the walls and door. I hadn't known that wooden doors were hollow before that.

"We could put a sort of ramp to get up there," Glint suggested, pointing to a sort of ledge built into the wall. "That way the shorter symbionts like me and Whiteback and Writhe would be at eye level with the rest of you sitting down." I grinned.

"That's a fantastic idea! And we could put a table or something here, so that you all would be able to sit at the table…" We began mapping out the floor plan of the place. Soundwave's corner would be in the very back near the window, and because of the way the wall jutted out, it created a natural sort of cave. We decided to put a curtain or something up so that he could close himself off from the rest of the room completely. Then came the hard part; getting it all set up.

I didn't have much experience building things, but I figured it out. I found Maximum's toolbox pushed off to a corner of the garage and a very large thin blanket that might work as a makeshift curtain. Glint was scouting for usuable furniture. I started moving things up the stairs and into the attic, but inevitably someone heard me.

"What are you doing?" I recognized the sleek voice as Writhe's.

_Shhh! Everyone's still asleep! It's Maximum's day off, let him have it._

_You haven't answered my question. _

_I'm taking this up the the attic to get the place livable, okay?_

_Take me with you; I've watched people build things before. One of my other carrier's accomplices was a carpentar._ I put the snake around my neck and continued up into the hidden room. Writhe instructed me about how to use a power drill, and then I was busy tying things to other things. Glint came fluttering up.

"Mirr, there's an old bulliten board out there."

"That sounds perfect! We can put stuff on it and people can come by at different times and look at it so it's less suspicious. I think we should only have meetings every once in a while so it looks like just a dinner party or something."

"It's a valid suggestion," said Writhe, always reluctant to compliment.

"But we need to wait for Barricade to wake up, so he can help move it."

I'd finished on the curtain and was setting up some folding chairs when Whiteback informed me from downstairs that somebody was looking for me.

"Wha-at," I called, not looking up from my task. Then I remembered that the place was basically soundproof and sighed. I trotted down the stairs and poked my head out onto the second floor landing.

"Someone say my name?" I heard footsteps and then Barricade came up the stairs. "Barricade, what are you doing up here so early?" He huffed.

"I went to bed at nine."

"Ah. Hey, you wanna help me move some stuff?"

"You mean do I want to move some stuff _for you_?" I felt myself turn pink.

"Ah… probably." I was a little ashamed of my failure to do anything physical. Barricade sighed and followed me out to the garage. "There, that bulliten board. I can get the other end if you want…" He picked it up by himself and tromped back through the house and up to the attic. I felt guilty.

"What now?" asked Barricade flatly. I sat down.

"We have to put it up." We managed to wrestle the thing onto the wall, and then I slid to a sitting position. Barricade looked at me, vaguely curious.

"You're so quiet today, Mirr." I sighed.

"Everything just feels so hopeless right now. I mean, we have to get this finished, then we have to pinpoint Tag, and there's the matter of Ratbat…"

"And there's me." I sighed.

"And there's you. But your problem isn't quite as long term as the others." He sat down next to me.

"Even so, it's not like these problems came out of nowhere just now. They've been here for a while. What's got you so upset now?" I was glad he'd decided to talk to me. Talking was good. It let me release my emotions.

"Laserbeak came last night. He's worried about how much longer Soundwave can hold out." Barricade let out a long low hiss of a sigh.

"So now you're worried too. We're almost done here, Mirr; we just need something for him to sleep on and we're set. Don't feel like it's impossible. I'll tell you what's impossible; three-to-one odds." I looked at him inquisitively. "What, so now you want to hear my war stories?" He laughed. "Most folks don't want anything to do with them—or me, I suppose," he said to himself.

"I'm not most people. Hey, your war experience has been helpful. Maybe I can learn something."

"_You_? Learn something from _me_?" he shook his head. "Whatever you say." He started rather unsteadily, unsure of what I already knew about combat. But eventually he slipped into a rather detailed account of about the week of his life before he'd been left for dead. I learned a few new things about Barricade from the story; for one, his unit hadn't functioned like regular ones usually had. It had been a collection of the most skilled rebel soldiers from any rank, and though they'd had a commander, he'd been willing to listen to the lower ranking soldiers as well. Arbado and Gilwin were in the story, and Barricade described the two as being reliable, and, in the beginning, trusting of their fellow soldier's decisions. They'd been like brothers, the ex-Officer said bitterly, and as the story unfolded, a complex matter became fathomable for me. I could trace the whole situation of Black Tag's fury towards Barricade: it had started with mutual respect, but then as resources dwindled, tensions materialized. Barricade had been an outlier from the start; he was one of the younger soldiers at the beginning of the war, but he had quickly gained experience and, as the war dragged on, years. Arbado was two years older than Barricade, and Gilwin a year-and-a-half, and the three men had served together for a long time. However, the two had advanced in the ranks while Barricade hadn't. Despite his own superior judgement and skills, he had remained at the base level for all soldiers. He had basically behaved as a captain regardless, directing soldiers and formulating plans, but some of the higher ranking soldiers had begun to resent him. As the war was drawing to a close, Barricade had suggested various tactics that didn't go along with what any of the superiors thought. He'd advocated withdrawing to previously captured territory to regroup or defend, and many of the lower soldiers had agreed, tired and hungry. In fact, the argument had become so heated between Barricade and one of the particularly high ranking soldiers that Barricade had gotten into a scuffle with the other man that ended with a broken nose for the superior and Barricade's knife wound that the boy who'd disarmed him had noticed. Due to this and several other factors, when the decision to attack the village for supplies was made, the higher rankings had been very much at odds with him: he was a distraction to the rest of the troops. So when he was injured, the commanding officers, no doubt Arbado and Gilwin among them, had given the order to leave him. After coming to, Barricade, alone and weak with his personal beliefs shaken, had chosen to desert. And now Arbado and Gilwin, afraid of what their former comrade-in-arms would do and bitter about his supposed betrayal, wanted Barricade dead. It seemed rather ridiculous; couldn't Arbado and Gilwin have just found Barricade after the war and gotten things sorted out? Put it behind them? And, up until a point, it would have been possible. But there was far more involved now. There was me, for one thing, and I knew that however much Barricade would've liked to have his friends back, there wasn't one goddamn half of a percent chance that he would ever hand me over to them.

Once Maximum woke up, I asked him about something for Soundwave to use as a bed. He got up, walked over to the basement and led me down there.

"Last person what own this house have lot what party," he said icily. "And lot what guest stay over for drinking. So owner have futon couch what we can turn bed."

"Did you know the previous owner?"

"No, but Kiya and me is getting house for very cheap for location and all furniture left here that last man not want what throw away himself. So I selling to resale store. But fuiton is still here because is very heavy." I frowned; there was no way Barricade and Maximum could lift it by themselves, and I would probably get smooshed. I noted Glint.

_Hey, do you know where the station is?_

_Station?_

_The Officer's station. While you've been out flying did you ever find it? _

_Yeah, it's real far from here, but I know where it is… Do you need Coldby for something? _

_Yes, actually. Ask him if he's willing to help us lift something._

_No trouble at all, Mirr._ I told Maximum of my plan, and he went to call Shockwave. This was going to be a four person job.

By the time everybody had assembled, it was late afternoon. We were an odd collection of people, I noticed for the first time; several Protos, one Agili and two part-Neros. I was at the head of the procession, monitoring to see what adjustments had to be made. Coldby was sweating from the moment he picked the thing up, and I wondered if we should've put him in the front. The back was the hardest end to be at, because one had to fight the increased gravity from the elevated front. Barricade was also in the back, and the two oldest men were at the front.

"Coldby, you hanging in there?" He tried very hard to smile.

"Fine," he growled, huffing loudly. Barricade said nothing. He wasn't having as much trouble as the others due to his Nerollynix heritage. But I knew if Coldby gave out, he wouldn't be able to hold it alone. Slowly I directed the group onto the basement stairs. It took quite a lot of effort, but they reached the top. Then we shuffled through the halls and up to the second stairway. Coldby was beet red.

"Come on, almost halfway." He didn't answer. They barely managed to get the thing up to the second floor. "Why don't you guys take a break?"

"It will be easier all at once," said Shockwave, but I could hear how strained his voice was. Finally we reached the attic stairwell. The procession moved shakily onto where it curved. I knew we wouldn't make it; Coldby couldn't hold it. With a gasp his arms spasmed and the whole futon heaved. The young man had hung on to it but only barely. It was slanted heavily and only a few feet in the air. Barricade snarled as the majority of the weight fell to him. I knew I had to do something.

"Turn to face each other," I growled to Maximum and Shockwave, and they obeyed curiously. I slipped between the two of them and under the futon. Maximum tried to talk me out of it.

"Mirr… you be… crushed… Coldby be dropping it… soon…" I slithered down the steps and lay facing up on one of them. Pressing my feet against the futon, I spoke to Coldby.

"Lift on three. One, two, _three_!" I pressed sharply upwards with my legs, hoping that they were at least a little stronger than my upper body. I heard Coldby moaning as he managed to lift it back level. I flipped over and crawled over between him and Barricade.

"What… the hell… are you… doin'…?!" spat Barricade.

"Helping you carry the goddam thing," I hissed, and pressed upwards on the metal frame with all I could muster. "Okay… Maximum, Shockwave, move backwards…" The other two grunted in reply and we slowly moved up the stairs at a snail's pace. I felt myself shaking. _Screw this shivering! I'm gonna lift the fucking thing just like everybody else!_ Finally we climbed over the last step and inched into the attic. Coldby was nearly crying next to me. "H…hopefully it… doesn't break the floor…" I grumbled sardonically. We heaved the futon over to the chosen location and finally set it down. Coldby and I fell over backwards once it was down and lay panting with our backs against the wall.

"What the hell, Mirr," gasped Barricade. I saw he was shaking too. I just laughed tiredly.

"I'm a Nerollynix too, Barricade… remember?" I grinned. He rolled his eyes. I reached over and patted Coldby on the shoulder. "Alright there?" He nodded. "No pulled muscles?"

"Nah…" He looked ready to pass out. "God… I'm such a weakling…"

"Are not. He's superhuman," I said, inclining my head in Barricade's general direction, "And the front wasn't as heavy." Coldby sighed.

"Whatever."

WHOOPS THERES THE END SORRY BUT HEY I WARNED YOU

OUTLINE NEXT CH? COMING SOON I BINGE-POSTED THE WHOLE THING SO NOT QUITE READY TO DO MORE COMPOSING

YEAH THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING I KNOW IVE BEEN SORT OF A BITCH BUT REALLY IT MEANS A LOT THAT YOU READ IT 3

IF YOU WANT TO USE MY IDEAS FOR NERVOUS SYSTEM HACKS COMMENT HERE AND I'LL PROBS LET YOU BUT DONT DO IT WITHOUT ASKING.


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